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A  HISTORY  OP  LITERARY  CRITICISM  IN 
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***  Other  numbers  of  this  series  will  be  issued  from 
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berry,  Professor. 


THE   CLASSICAL    H 
OF  THE  MIDDLE  A 


BT 


HENRY   OSBORN   TAYLOR 

SOMETIME  LECTURER  IN   LITERATURE 

AT  COLUMBIA  UNIVERSITY 

AUTHOR  OF  "  ANCIENT  IDEALS" 


Nefo  gorfe 

THE  COLUMBIA  UNIVERSITY  PRESS 

THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY,  Agents 

66  Fifth  Avenue 

1901 

All  rights  reserved 


COPYRIGHT,    1901, 

By  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 


J  S.  Cushing  &  Co.  —  Berwick  &  Smith 
Norwood  Masa.  U.S.A. 


o 


PREFACE 

The  subject  of  this  book  is  the  transition  from 
the  Classical  to  the  Mediaeval.  It  seeks  to  follow  the 
changes  undergone  by  classic  thought,  letters,  and  art, 
on  their  way  to  form  part  of  the  intellectual  develop- 
ment of  the  Middle  Ages,  and  to  show  how  pagan 
tastes  and  ideals  gave  place  to  the  ideals  of  Chris- 
tianity and  to  Christian  sentiments.  The  argument 
reaches  backward  to  classic  Greece  and  Eome  and 
forward  into  the  Middle  Ages;  but  the  discussion 
centres  in  the  period  extending  from  the  fourth  to 
the  seventh  century.  This  period  was  strikingly 
transitional  in  Italy  and  the  western  provinces  of 
the  Eoman  Empire ;  before  it  had  passed,  the  various 
elements  of  classic  culture  had  assumed  the  forms  in 
'which  they  were  to  make  part  of  the  intellectual  life 
of  the  Middle  Ages,  and  Christianity  had  taken  on  a 
mediaeval  character. 

In  considering  the  antecedents  of  the  transition 
period  it  is  necessary  to  look  to  Greek  as  well  as 
Eoman  sources,  to  the  East  as  well  as  to  the  West. 
But  the  West  of  Europe  is  the  province  of  this  book, 
and  the   discussion  tends  always  to  turn  from   the 


viii  PREFACE 

Hellenic  East  to  the  Western  and  Latin  phenomena 
of  the  transition  period.  These  have  a  personal  inter- 
est for  us,  making  part  of  our  own  past.  They  have 
also  the  interest  of  that  which  lived  and  was  to  grow 
in  life.  Find  what  interest  one  may  in  mediaeval 
Byzantium,  —  and  it  is  full  of  instruction,  —  still  it 
is  a  tale  of  what  had  reached  its  zenith,  of  what  was 
past  its  best  strength,  a  tale  of  decadence  postponed 
with  skill  and  energy,  and  yet  only  postponed. 

H.  O.  TAYLOR. 
New  York, 
January  19, 1901. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  I 

PAGE 

Introduction 1 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  PASSING   OF  THE  ANTIQUE  MAN 

Contrast  between  the  classic  and  the  mediaeval  character  .  18 

Distinctive  Greek  and  Roman  traits 19 

Influence  of  Greece  on  Rome 22 

The  Greek-enlightened  Roman 24 

Later  Greek  types 26 

Growth  of  emotion :  Homer,  the  lyric  and  tragic  poets, 

the  Alexandrians,  Virgil 27 

The  new  pagan  religiousness 29 

Neo-platonism 30 

The  pagan  climacteric 31 

CHAPTER  in 

PHASES  OF  PAGAN  DECADENCE 

General  decay  and  literary  decline 33 

Oratory,  rhetoric,  and  grammar 34 

Debased  uses  of  Virgil 37 

The  romance  of  Alexander 38 

The  tale  of  Troy 40 

The  Greek  love-romances  .        .        .'  *    .        .        .        .41 

ix 


X  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER   IV 

THE  ANTIQUE  CULTURE 

I.     The  Transmission  of  Letters 

PAGE 

Latin  and  Greek  in  the  West 44 

The  preservation  of  classic  works 45 

Mediaeval  education 47 

Summaries  of  the  liberal  arts :  Martianus  Capella     .        .  49 

Summaries  of  philosophy  :  Boethius 51 

II.    Transmission  of  the  Roman  Law 

Imperial  codes 56 

Barbarian  codes  of  Roman  law 59 

Roman  law  and  the  Church  ;  canon  law    ....  61 

Roman  law  in  the  early  Middle  Ages         ....  64 
The  Bologna  school  and  the  new  knowledge  of  the  Roman 

law  in  France,  England,  and  Germany  •  66 

CHAPTER  V 

PAGAN  ELEMENTS  CHRISTIANIZED  IN 
TRANSMISSION 

I.     Ethics 

Pagan  and  Christian  ethics         ......      71 

Ambrose's  Be  Officlis  Ministrorum 74 

Augustine 77 

II.     Stnesius  of  Ctrene 78 

III.     The  Celestial  and  Ecclesiastical  Hierarchies 

of  the  Counterfeit  Diontsius  the  Areopagite      82 

IV.     Mysteries,  Symbolism,  Allegory 
"  Mysteries,"  symbolism,  and  allegorical  interpretation    .      90 
Pagan  and  Christian  mysteries 93 


CONTENTS  XI 

PAGE 

Allegorical  interpretation  with  Greeks,  Jews,  and  Chris- 
tians     97 

Effect  on  mediaeval  literature  and  art         ....     106 


CHAPTER  VI 
IDEALS  OF  KNOWLEDGE,  BEAUTY,  LOVE 

I.     Philosophy  and  Dogma 

The  Greek  and  Christian  ideal  of  knowledge      .        .        .  107 

Christian  views  of  pagan  literature 108 

The  Christian  attitude  toward  philosophy  ....  109 
The  dogmatic  formulation  of  Christianity  ;  Greek  philoso- 
phy and  Roman  law 116 

Greek  philosophy  in  mediaeval  scholasticism      .        .        .  122 

II.     Beauty  and  Love 

Christian  conceptions  of  beauty  :  Augustine,  Gregory  of 

Nyssa 123 

Augustine's  thoughts  of  love 128 

The  Christian  attitude  toward  emotion  in  general      .        .  131 

CHAPTER  VII 

ABANDONMENT  OF  PAGAN  PRINCIPLES  IN 
A   CHRISTIAN  SYSTEM  OF  LIFE 

I.     Origins  of  Monasticism 

The  ascetic  act 136 

Greek,   Egyptian,    Indian,    and    Jewish    antecedents    of 

monasticism 138 

The  conflict  between  Christ  and  the  world         .        .        .  142 

Christian  disparagement  of  marriage  ....  143 

Beginnings  of  monasticism 145 


Xll  CONTENTS 

PA.&B 

Labor  and  obedience 148 

Causes  of  the  rapid  spread  of  monasticism         .        .        .150 
The  Christian  contemplative  life 153 

II.     Western  Monasticism 

Eastern  and  Western  monasticism 155 

Influence  of  the  four  Latin  Fathers 158 

Cassian's  Institutes  and  Conlationes  ;  monastic  vices  and 

their  remedies 160 

The  Benedictine  regula 164 

III.     The  Monastic  Character 

General  traits 178 

Western  examples  from  the  transition  centuries  :  Jerome, 
Ambrose,  Augustine,  Benedict  of  Nursia,  Gregory 
the  Great 183 


CHAPTER  VIII 
CHRISTIAN  PROSE 

I.     Christianization  of  Style 

Contrasts  between  classical  and  primitive  Christian  writings  198 

Formlessness  of  the  latter 200 

Effect  of  the  new  religion  upon  literary  Latin    .         .         .  202 

Tertullian  and  the  Sermo  Plebeius 203 

The  new  Christian  vocabulary 204 

II.     The  First  Four  Centuries  of  Christian  Prose 

Letters :  Paul,  Ignatius,  Cyprian,  Augustine,  Jerome        .  207 

Apologies,  Greek  and  Latin 213 

The  Civitas  Dei 217 

Apologetic  History ;  Orosius 219 

Polemics;  sermons 223 


CONTENTS  Xlll 

PAGE 

Apocryphal  Gospels  and  Acts 225 

Their  influence  in  the  Middle  Ages 230 

IIL     Medijevalizing   or  Latin   Prose  and   Forms   of 

Composition 231 


CHAPTER  IX 

CHRISTIAN  POETRY 

I.     Classic  Metre  and  Christian  Emotion 

Metrical  qualities  of  Greek  verse 235 

Characteristics  of  Greek  emotion        .        .        .         .        .  236 

Hexameter  and  elegiac 237 

Lyric  metres ;  the  dramatists 240 

Metrical  decadence 242 

Metre  and  emotion  with  the  classic  Latin  poets  .        .  243 

Christian  emotion  unsuited  to  classic  metres      .         .         .  244 

The  mediaeval  hymn 246 

IT.     Greek  Christian  Poetry 

The  first  Christian  songs 247 

The  Oracula  Sibyllina 250 

The  hymn  ascribed  to  Clement  of  Alexandria   .         .         .  253 

The  hymn  of  Methodius     .         .        .        .  .         .  255 

Metrical  hymns  of  Synesius  and  Gregory  Nazianzen .  256 

The  origin  and  rise  of  Greek  accentual  hymns  .         .        .  257 

Romanos 260 

III.     Early  Latin  Christian  Poetry 

Relations  to  the  Greek 262 

The  change  from  quantity  to  accent  in  Latin  hymns  .  263 

Prudentius  and  the  martyr-ballad 269 

Paulinus  of  Nola  and  the  Christian  elegy   ....  272 

Didactic  or  polemic  poems 276 

The  Psychomachia 278 


XIV  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Narrative  poems 280 

A  Vitus'  "  Paradise  Lost"  .  282 

IV.     The  Transition  to  Medieval  Latin  Poetry 

Development  of  accentual  and  rhymed  verse     .        .        .  284 

Epic  and  other  antique  forms  of  poetry      ....  287 

Classic  phrase  and  pagan  commonplace     ....  291 

Fortunatus  and  the  passing  of  the  antique  spirit        .        .  293 
French,  Irish,  Anglo-Saxon,  and  German  traits  in  Latin 

poetry . 297 


CHAPTER  X 
CHRISTIAN  ART 

I.  The  Transition  from  Antique  to  Medlbval 

Architecture 

The  classic  orders 3(12 

The  Christian  basilica 303 

The  Byzantine  dome 305 

Through  Romanesque  to  Gothic 308 

Gothic  and  classic 313 

II.  Antique  Christian  Painting  and  Sculpture 

Gradually  distinguishable  from  pagan        ....  316 

The  subjects  and  interpretation  of  catacomb  painting        .  318 

Antique  Christian  sculpture 324 

The  Christian  revival  of  art  in  the  fourth  and  fifth  cen- 
turies ;  mosaics 325 

III.     Byzantine  Painting 

Progress  to  the  Byzantine  style  in  Italy     ....  332 

Ravenna 336 

Mosaics 337 

Characteristics  of  Byzantine  art 340 


CONTENTS  XV 

PAGE 

Its  course  and  decline 342 

Art  in  Italy  becomes  Italian 345 

IV.     The  Antique  in  Medieval  Art 

The  antique  art  and  the  Northern  races     ....  348 

Carolingian  art 350 

Modes  of  antique  survival 353 

The  transformation  of  the  antique  in  the  evolution  of 

mediaeval  art 355 

Bibliographical  Appendix 359 


THE    CLASSICAL    HERITAGE    OF   THE 
MIDDLE  AGES 

CHAPTER   I 

INTRODUCTION 

No  date  marks  the  passing  of  the  ancient  world  and 
the  beginning  of  the  Middle  Ages.  The  transition 
from  one  to  the  other  was  a  process  of  spiritual 
change,  during  which  antique  characteristics  gradu- 
ally ceased  and  were  replaced  by  much  that  was  incipi- 
ently  mediaeval.  There  no  longer  existed  men  whose 
education  and  intellectual  traits,  whose  moods,  tastes, 
sentiments,  and  views  of  life  were  those  of  the  time 
of  Augustus,  or  Trajan,  or  Marcus  Aurelius.  The 
older  possessors  of  antique  culture  in  Italy  and  the 
provinces  were  transformed ;  within  and  without  the 
Empire  new  races  had  come  upon  the  stage ;  through 
decade  and  century  went  on  a  ceaseless  blending  of 
the  new,  the  old,  and  the  transitional. 

Paganism  and  Christianity  existed  side  by  side  in 
the  Graeco-Roman  world  of  the  fourth  and  fifth  centu- 
ries, the  one  with  its  great  steadying  traditions,  and 
the  other  with  its  power  of  new-found  faith  and  its 
fresh  moral  stimulus.  Christians  had  pagan  edu- 
cations, and  pagans,  like  the  emperor  Julian  and  his 

B  1 


2  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

friend  Libanius,  derived  suggestions  from  the  religion 
they  despised.  In  these  obviously  transitional  centu- 
ries, both  pagan  and  Christian  men  arose  who  were  not 
quite  antique.1  Some  of  them  eclectically  refashioned 
pagan  ethics,  some  made  useful  if  vapid  compendiums 
of  antique  culture,  some  turned  epics  into  grammars ; 
others  unconsciously  remoulded  primitive  Christianity 
or  produced  strange  creations,  compounds  of  Chris- 
tianity and  paganism.  Together  they  form  the  link 
between  the  earlier  pagan  and  Christian  types  and  the 
more  mediaeval  men  of  the  sixth  and  seventh  centuries. 
The  modification  of  antique  pagan  and  Christian 
types  is  one  side  of  the  change.  Another  is  repre- 
sented by  the  barbarian  races  who,  often  with  destruc- 
tive violence,  were  pressing  into  the  Empire  and 
coming  under  the  influence  of  whatever  existed  there. 
They  were  affected  by  intercourse  with  Italians  and 
provincials,  and  soon  began  to  absorb  knowledge.  As 
their  intelligence  increased,  through  their  contact  with 
a  higher  civilization,  they  drew  from  the  antique 
according  to  their  understandings  and  appreciations. 
The  old  matters  thus  absorbed  into  new  natures  were 
transformed,  and  sometimes  gained  fresh  life.  But 
these  barbarian  men  were  not  metamorphosed  into  an- 
tique persons,  nor  even  into  those  pagan  or  Christian 
semi-antique  types  which  made  the  Graeco-Eoman 
world  of  the  fourth  and  fifth  centuries.      From  the 

1  The  word  "  classical  "  refers  to  the  characteristics  of  Greek  art 
and  Greek  or  Roman  literature  at  their  best;  "antique"  refers 
more  generally  to  the  characteristics  of  Greek  and  Roman  civiliza- 
tion, without  special  reference  to  period  or  quality;  "  pagan" 
means  the  same,  but  with  the  added  idea  of  opposition  to  Christian 
thought. 


I]  INTRODUCTION  3 

beginning  of  the  sixth  century,  however,  the  barbarians 
are  not  to  be  sharply  set  over  against  Eomans  and 
provincials ;  they  represent  all  stages  of  civilization, 
from  barbarism  to  the  best  culture  afforded  by  the 
time. 

These  processes  of  overthrow,  progress,  and  change 
were  complex.  But  it  is  noticeable  that  each  succeed- 
ing generation  of  the  mingled  denizens  of  the  Empire 
is  further  removed  from  the  antique  type  and  nearer 
to  the  mediaeval.  The  Empire  remained  geographi- 
cally the  source  of  religion  and  culture  for  peoples 
within  it  and  without;  and  Christianity,  as  well  as 
much  from  the  pagan  classic  past,  was  passing  to  the 
new  peoples  in  forms  continually  modified  and  ever 
nearer  to  the  level  of  the  early  mediaeval  centuries. 
Eor  example,  Augustine  was  a  Roman  Christian;  he 
was  not  mediaeval.  One  hundred  and  fifty  years  after 
him  comes  Gregory  the  Great,  who  is  partly  Roman 
still,  yet  is  touched  with  the  new  ignorance,  the  new 
barbarism.  He  is,  however,  close  enough  to  Augustine 
to  appropriate  his  doctrines  and  hand  them  on  in  modes 
nearer  the  level  of  the  seventh  and  eighth  centuries. 
This  is  an  example  of  the  Christian  side  of  the  matter. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  classic  spirit  was  dead  before 
Gregory  was  born,  and  classic  literature  was  degraded 
by  the  way  in  which  it  was  understood.  Virgil,  for 
instance,  was  no  longer  Virgil,  but  incarnate  grammar 
and  authoritative  history.  Antique  culture  was  also 
undergoing  desiccation  in  compositions  of  the  tran- 
sition centuries,  whose  authors  took  what  was  spiritu- 
ally closest  to  them  and  made  it  over  in  accordance 
with  their  own  intelligence  and  character. 


4  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

From  the  third  to  the  fifth  century  the  Graeco- 
Roman  world  presents  conditions  of  decadence.  Mili- 
tary courage,  civic  devotion,  intellectual  energy,  are 
declining.  Decay  shows  itself  in  literature  and  art, 
The  phenomena  of  this  pagan  decadence  present  anal- 
ogies in  the  various  provinces  of  philosophy,  ethics, 
law,  rhetoric,  and  grammar,  as  well  as  in  art  and  poetry, 
Philosophy  and  ethics  are  eclectic :  organic  princi- 
ples which  give  consistency  are  frequently  ignored 
while  inconsistent  sources  are  drawn  from,  and  there 
is  a  tendency  to  summarize.  In  law  the  tendency  is 
to  conserve  and  compile,  then  to  epitomize ;  the  crea- 
tive energy  to  make  an  organic  system  is  lacking.  In 
rhetoric,  grammar,  mathematics,  there  is  merely  an 
arranging  of  the  old  and  trite  examples  and  a  sum- 
marizing. Consequently  resemblances  will  appear 
throughout  the  decadent  forms  in  which  these  vari- 
ous branches  of  culture  pass  over  into  the  Middle  Ages. 
In  poetry  and  art  there  was  not  the  same  palpable 
summarizing  of  previous  works ;  yet  the  failure  of  cre- 
ative faculty  appears  in  the  mediocrity  of  poetic  com- 
positions, in  their  lack  of  freshness,  their  insipid  use 
of  borrowed  phrase  and  trite  image.  The  openly  pagan 
poetry  of  the  fourth  and  fifth  centuries  was  not  as  cur- 
rent in  the  Middle  Ages  as  the  semi-pagan  verse  written 
by  Christians.  In  this  there  was  some  modification  of 
pagan  elements,  and  it  may  be  said  generally,  as  to 
the  paganism  carried  over  into  the  Middle  Ages  in 
Christian  writings,  that  the  Christian  spirit  altered 
whatever  it  drew  from  paganism  ;  and  Christian  modi- 
fications of  borrowed  pagan  elements  show  analogies 
among  themselves,  whether  the  pagan  element  happens 


i]  INTRODUCTION  5 

to  be  carried  over  in  theological,  ethical,  or  historical 
writings  or  in  more  strictly  literary  compositions.  For 
example,  the  pagan  matter  is  apt  to  be  allegorized  or 
treated  mystically  or  symbolically,  and  novel  and  more 
spiritual  meaning  is  given  to  what  is  taken.1  More- 
over, the  later  and  partially  decadent  pagan  sources 
are  usually  employed. 

The  fifth  century  concludes  the  course  of  the  deca- 
dence of  independent  self-existent  paganism.  Al- 
ready Christianity  was  showing  itself  a  new  power  and 
inspiration  in  thought,  letters,  and  art.  Yet  its  spirit 
and  its  principles  differed  so  essentially  from  those 
of  the  classical  antique  that  some  of  its  elements  of 
strength  corresponded  with  what  were  defects  accord- 
ing to  classical  standards.  Self-control,  measure,  limit, 
proportion,  clarity,  and  definiteness  were  principles  of 
the  antique ;  the  Christian  spirit  broke  through  them 
all.  Its  profound  spirituality,  often  turning  to  mysti- 
cism, had  not  the  clarity  of  classic  limitation.  It  did 
not  recognize  limit.  Its  reach  was  infinite,  and  there- 
fore its  expressions  were  often  affected  with  indefinite- 
ness.  Classic  self-control  meant  measure,  nothing  in 
excess.  Christian  self-control  soon  came  to  mean 
the  exclusion  of  a  part  of  life ;  it  knew  no  measure ; 
of  what  it  condemned  it  could  not  have  too  little,  of 
what  it  approved  it  could  not  have  enough.  The  higher 
paganism  sought  to  weigh  and  proportion  the  elements 
of  mortal  life  according  to  their  intrinsic  values  and 
their  relations  to  the  economy  of  human  happiness. 
Christianity  scarcely  regarded  these  mortal  balancings. 
It  had  its  own  universal  principle  of  proportionment, 
1  The  myth  of  the  Phoenix  is  an  example,  see  post,  p.  279. 


6  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

—  that  love  of  God  which  comprehended  love  for  all 
men  and  for  self  in  conformity  with  God's  love  of  His 
creatures. 

Inspired  by  so  different  a  spirit  the  creations  of  Chris- 
tian thought  and  feeling  could  not  be  like  the  classic, 
and  their  excellence  could  not  be  the  classic  excellence. 
Classic  principles  of  literary  and  artistic  form  and  defi- 
nite unity  of  composition  could  never  become  organic 
with  the  spirit  of  Christianity  which  overleaped  the 
finite  and  the  mortal.1  Consequently  the  art  and  lit- 
erature of  the  transition  centuries  present  a  conflict,  of 
which  the  Christian  artists  and  authors  are  not  always 

1  The  contrast  between  the  (late)  classical  and  the  Christian 
spirit  may  be  seen  in  the  lines  on  Hope  attributed  to  Seneca :  "  De- 
ceitful hope,  hope  sweet  evil,  the  one  solace  of  ills  for  wretched 
men,  whereby  they  bear  their  lots.  Silly  thing,  which  no  turn  of 
fortune  can  put  to  flight,  hope  stays,  anxious  to  please  to  the  last 
gasp,"  etc.  This  pagan  conception  of  spes  is  definite  and  unspir- 
itualized,  quite  wingless,  pessimistic,  and  void  of  high  assurance. 
It  lacks  all  that  animates  Christian  hope  and  gives  it  wings  to  bear 
it  up  to  God. 

Spes  fallax,  spes  dulce  malum,  spes  una  malorum 

Solamen  miseris,  qua  sua  fata  trahunt. 
Credula  res,  quam  nulla  potest  fortuna  fugare, 

Spes  stat  in  extremis  officiosa  malis. 
Spes  vetat  aeterno  mortis  requiescere  portu 

Et  curas  ferro  rumpere  sollicitas. 
Spes  nescit  vinci,  spes  pendet  tota  futuris; 

Mentitur,  credi  vult  tamen  ilia  (sibi) . 
Sola  tenet  miseros  in  vita,  sola  moratur, 

Sola  perit  numquam,  sed  venit  atque  redit.  .  .  . 
—  Baehrens,  Poetae  Latini  Minores,  Vol.  IV,  p.  65. 

Compare  also  the  Pervigilium  Veneris,  that  last  soft  note  of 
pagan  sexual  love,  with  Augustine's  conception  of  the  love  of  God 
(post,  p.  129)  and  with  the  mystical  love  of  Christ  which  was  spring- 
ing up  within  monasticism  (post,  p.  153). 


i]  INTRODUCTION  7 

conscious,  —  a  conflict  between  the  new  spirit  of  Chris- 
tianity, with  its  inspirations,  its  infinite  reaches  and 
its  requirements  of  expression,  and  the  antique  culture, 
its  tastes  and  aversions,  and  its  definite  literary  and 
artistic  rules  and  forms. 

In  the  fourth  and  fifth  centuries  great  works  of 
Christian  theology  and  polemics  were  produced,  as  well 
as  writings  more  properly  literary,  both  poetry  and 
prose,  and  also  works  of  art.  The  Christian  authors 
had  renounced  the  pagan  religion,  they  condemned  its 
idolatry,  some  of  them  disapproved  pagan  literature. 
But  one  and  all  were  educated  in  standards  of  artistic 
taste  and  principles  of  literary  composition  which  were 
the  fruit  of  pagan  culture.  They  knew  no  other  can- 
ons to  follow  when  they  tried  for  literary  excellence. 
Therefore  they  could  not  but  endeavor  to  give  their 
Christian  writings  the  excellences  which  had  distin- 
guished the  antique  pagan  literature  and  art.  But 
these  classic  rules  were  profoundly  irreconcilable  with 
the  spirit  and  demands  of  the  new  Christian  matter, 
as  may  be  readily  seen  in  Christian  poetry ;  antique 
form  and  metre  were  not  suited  to  Christian  feeling, 
and  the  Christian  soul  did  not  reach  full  poetic  expres- 
sion until  it  abandoned  classic  forms  and  created  new 
ones.  As  for  Christian  art,  the  technical  skill  and 
principles  of  composition  inherited  from  the  antique 
were  its  foundations  and  its  first  source  of  excellence ; 
these  aided  vastly  more  than  they  retarded.  Never- 
theless in  architecture,  sculpture,  and  painting,  the 
Christian  spirit  reaches  its  full  expression  only  in  the 
Middle  Ages  when  the  classic  heritage  has  been  for- 
gotten or  abandoned. 


8  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

In  other  respects  classic  knowledge  deflected  or  em- 
barrassed the  development  of  Christian  thought.  In- 
consistent elements  from  pagan  metaphysics  entered 
Christian  theology.  And  pagan  ethics  for  a  time  held 
Christian  ethics  from  their  true  principles.  This  ap- 
pears, for  instance,  in  the  ethical  writings  of  so  pro- 
found a  Christian  as  Ambrose.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
works  of  his  younger  contemporary,  Augustine,  show 
the  casting  aside  of  pagan  ethical  reasoning  and  the 
creation  of  a  veritable  Christian  scheme. 

If  pagan  form  and  substance  thus  hampered  the 
Christian  development,  it  may  be  inferred  that  Chris- 
tian productions  were  ill  suited  to  the  preservation  of 
antique  elements  unchanged  and  uncorrupted.  An- 
tique form  is  soon  distorted  in  Christian  literature, 
while  the  substantial  elements  of  antique  ethics  and 
philosophy  are  often  changed  by  the  mixture  of  what 
is  foreign  to  them,  or  are  distorted  through  their  appli- 
cation in  schemes  and  to  purposes  alien  to  their  nature. 
The  larger  Christian  Latin  poems  from  the  time  of 
Commodian  afford  examples  of  the  distortion  of  an- 
tique form.  Many  of  them,  whatever  may  be  their 
purpose  or  their  topic,  make  an  indiscriminate  use 
of  the  hexameter  or  the  elegiac  metre,  and  disregard 
literary  unity  and  pertinency  at  will.  Examples  of 
the  misapplication  of  pagan  substance  may  be  found 
in  the  use  of  Stoical  methods  of  reasoning  as  a  frame 
for  Christian  ethics ;  also  in  the  use  of  Greek  philoso- 
phy for  the  formulation  of  Christian  dogma,  or  in  the 
manner  of  employing  certain  parts  of  Aristotle  in  the 
early  Middle  Ages.  And  yet  the  somewhat  distorted 
manner  in  which  classical  elements  were  used  in  Chris- 


i]  INTRODUCTION  9 

tian  literature  represents  much  besides  decay.  For 
the  genius  of  Christianity  could  make  use  of  antique 
pagan  elements  only  by  altering  and  breaking  them, 
or  by  misapplying  them,  and  all  this  in  ways  that  were 
sheer  debasement,  judged  by  any  classical  standard. 
It  was  through  their  distortion  that  pagan  elements 
became  part  of  the  new  growth  of  the  human  spirit 
coming  with  Christianity. 

There  were  several  ways  in  which  the  antique 
elements  of  culture  passed  over  to  the  Middle  Ages, 
or  were  superseded  by  Christian  ideals.  There  was,  of 
course,  intercourse  between  the  citizens  of  the  Empire 
and  the  barbarians.  One  result  of  this  may  be  ob- 
served in  the  bits  of  anonymous  pagan  opinion  sub- 
sisting scattered  and  impersonal  through  the  Middle 
Ages,  and  another  in  the  magic  of  the  great  name  of 
Eome  and  the  deathless  thought  of  the  Roman  Em- 
pire. These  ideas  lived  in  the  consciousness  of  the 
people,  though  they  were  also  fostered  by  literature. 
The  same  may  be  said  of  the  Roman  Law.  Some 
popular  knowledge  of  it  survived  among  the  inhabit- 
ants of  Italy  and  Gaul,  where  it  was  also  preserved  in 
codes  and  abridgments.  In  England  and  Germany,  save 
as  an  element  of  Canon  Law,  the  influence  of  Eoman 
Law  was  slight  until  after  the  rise  of  the  Bologna 
school.  As  to  the  currents  of  literary  influence, 
the  writings  of  classical  Latin  authors  still  survived 
and  were  read.  Antique  culture  was  also  summarized 
or  otherwise  remodelled  in  pagan  works  of  the  transi- 
tion centuries,  and  so  passed  on  in  forms  suited  to  the 
comprehension  of  the  Middle  Ages.  Chief  examples 
of  this  are  the  De  Nuptiis  Philologiae  et  Mercurii  of 


10  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

Martianus  Capella  and  the  De  Consolatione  of  Boe- 
thius. 

These  pagan  refashionings  of  the  antique  were  not 
complicated  by  the  introduction  of  anything  foreign 
to  paganism.  But  a  great  mass  of  pagan  culture  and 
philosophy  passed  over  into  the  Middle  Ages  modified 
or  transformed  in  the  works  of  Christians  of  the  tran- 
sition centuries.  In  these  Christian  writings  pagan 
and  Christian  thoughts  sometimes  are  crudely  mingled, 
as  in  the  poems  of  Synesius.  Again,  the  pagan  and 
Christian  elements  are  more  closely  united;  instead 
of  a  mechanical  mixture,  as  it  were,  there  is  a  chemi- 
cal compound,  the  ingredients  of  which  are  altered 
by  their  union.  The  writings  of  Pseudo-Dionysius  are 
an  example  :  although  their  inspiration  was  Christian, 
their  constructive  principles  were  drawn  from  Neo- 
platonism.  Greek  philosophy  likewise  supplied  the 
principles  for  the  formulation  of  Christian  dogma, 
and  thus  passed  into  Christianity  and  on  into  the 
Middle  Ages.  It  was  afterward  to  have  a  new  career, 
when  in  scholasticism  it  was  applied  to  prove  and 
systematize  dogmatic  Christianity.  Pagan  philosophy 
was  the  mediaeval  storehouse  of  reason.  Finally,  ele- 
ments of  paganism  survive,  sometimes  as  vague  and 
sometimes  as  definite  influences  in  predominantly 
Christian  works ;  as,  for  example,  the  writings  of  the 
Church  Fathers. 

Pagan  literary  form  survived  in  early  Christian 
prose  literature;  but  here  again  the  transition  from 
pagan  to  Christian  and  mediaeval  form  is  noticeable. 
Equally  interesting  is  the  passage  of  the  antique  forms 
from  pagan  into  Christian  poetry ;  and  then  most  strik- 


I]  INTRODUCTION  11 

ing  is  their  disappearance  and  the  evolution  of  new 
Christian  forms  of  verse  as  the  genius  of  Christianity 
masters  the  art  of  poetry  so  as  to  express  itself  and 
the  emotions  of  the  Christian  soul  through  this  me- 
dium. Likewise  in  art :  the  genius  of  Christianity 
long  follows  its  antique  lessons,  yet  conquers  them  at 
last  and  evolves  its  own  artistic  forms  in  painting, 
sculpture,  and  architecture.  Form  is  as  important  as 
substance  411  considering  poetry  and  the  fine  arts  in 
their  transition  from  antiquity  to  the  Middle  Ages. 

Christianity  itself  was  changed  in  its  passage  from 
apostolic  times  to  the  Middle  Ages.  Changes  sprang 
from  the  introduction  of  pagan  elements,  and  other 
changes  from  its  imperial  triumph  in  becoming  the 
religion  of  state.  But  monasticism  is  the  great  in- 
stance of  the  recasting  of  primitive  Christianity  by 
the  transition  centuries  in  the  form  which  was  to 
be  the  mediaeval  ideal  of  the  Christian  life.  In  these 
same  centuries  the  primitive  Christian  records  were 
superseded  or  changed,  actually  or  through  the  way  in 
which  they  were  understood.  Here  again,  as  monas- 
ticism came  to  be  the  ideal  Christian  life,  it  became  a 
factor  in  the  transformation  of  the  narratives  of  the 
Old  and  New  Testaments.  Under  its  influence  Elijah 
and  Elisha  become  monks,  and  Joseph  is  made  a  mar- 
ried celibate.1     Besides  the  Scriptures,  early  Christian 

1  See,  e.g.,  Cassian,  List.  I,  1.  On  the  other  hand,  the  lives  of 
the  heroes  of  monasticism  were  refacimenti  of  the  lives  of  scrip- 
tural characters,  including  Jesus.  The  scriptural  characters  were 
first  refashioned  to  the  understanding  and  views  of  the  transition 
and  mediaeval  centuries,  as,  for  example,  by  making  monks  of  them. 
The  imitation  of  these  medisevally  conceived  scriptural  personages 
was  then  a  twofold  process,  actual  and  imaginative.    It  was  actual 


12  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

writings,  both  Greek  and  Latin,  needed  the  recasting  of 
the  transition  period  to  adapt  them  to  mediaeval  compre- 
hension. Justin  Martyr,  Minucius  Felix,  and  the  great 
Tertullian  were  not  to  the  mediaeval  taste.  The  works 
of  the  Alexandrians,  Clement  and  Origen,  never  became 
intelligible  to  the  Eoman-minded  West.  Greek  Chris- 
tian writers  of  the  fourth  century  drew  largely  from 

in  so  far  as  the  saint  imitated  the  Biblical  characters,  and  repro- 
duced in  his  own  life  features  of  their  careers ;  it  was  imaginative 
as  his  "  legend  "  went  beyond  the  fact  in  likening  his  life  to  theirs. 
The  imaginative  side  of  the  process  was  largely  occupied  with  the 
miracles  which  faithful  tradition  readily  ascribed  to  its  hero  in 
making  his  life  like  that  of  Biblical  persons.  Otherwise,  in  this 
conformation  of  lives  of  saints  to  the  prevalent  conceptions  of 
ancient  types,  it  is  difficult  to  distinguish  the  actual  from  the 
imaginative. 

The  great  mediaeval  instance  is  the  life  of  Francis  of  Assisi, 
which  that  sweetest  of  saints  conformed  so  closely  to  the  life  of 
his  master  Christ,  report  and  tradition  adding  further  points  of 
likeness.  Similarly,  Benedict  fulfilled  the  precepts  of  Scripture, 
and  conformed  his  life  to  his  understanding  of  Biblical  examples. 
Tradition  carries  out  his  endeavor  for  him,  till  the  writer  of  his 
legend,  Gregory,  consciously  finds  in  his  hero's  career  a  catholic 
inclusion  of  the  deeds  of  scriptural  saints.  In  the  Dialogues,  after 
Gregory  has  been  telling  the  marvellous  deeds  of  Benedict,  his  in- 
terlocutor, the  Deacon  Peter,  answers  and  exclaims:  "Wonderful 
and  astonishing  is  what  you  relate.  For  in  the  water  brought  forth 
from  the  rock  (i.e.  by  Benedict)  I  see  Moses,  in  the  iron  which 
returned  from  the  bottom  of  the  lake  I  see  Elisha  (2  Kings  vi.  7) , 
in  the  running  upon  the  water  I  see  Peter,  in  the  obedience  of  the 
raven  I  see  Elijah  (1  Kings  xvii.  6),  and  in  his  grief  for  his  dead 
enemy  I  see  David  (1  Kings  i.  11).  That  man,  as  I  consider  him, 
was  full  of  the  spirit  of  all  the  just"  (Gregorius  Magnus,  Dialogi, 
II,  8).  The  preceding  chapters  tell  these  miracles  of  Benedict. 
The  rest  of  the  second  book  contains  other  miracles  like  those  told 
in  the  Bible.  The  life  of  a  later  saint  may  also  follow  earlier  mo- 
nastic types.  Francis  kisses  the  wounds  of  lepers,  as  Martin  of 
Tours  had  done.    See  Sulpicius  Severus,  Vita  S.  Martini. 


i]  INTRODUCTION  13 

them.  By  that  time  Greek  was  no  longer  generally 
understood  in  Italy  and  the  Latin-speaking  provinces 
of  the  Empire,  and  many  Greek  Christian  writings 
were  translated  into  Latin,  and  usually  were  abridged 
or  otherwise  modified. 

Translations  thus  overcame  the  barrier  of  language. 
Other  reasons  were  to  keep  early  Latin  as  well  as 
Greek  Christian  authors  from  being  read  in  the 
Middle  Ages,  to  wit,  their  antique  tone,  and  because 
the  circumstances  under  which  they  lived  and  wrote 
were  different  from  any  situation  that  the  Middle 
Ages  were  to  experience  or  could  understand.  Non 
licet  esse  vos  was  substantially  what  the  pagan  govern- 
ment said  to  the  Christians.1  What  could  a  later 
time  really  know  of  this  condition  of  the  Church, 
illicit,  legally  unrecognized,  forbidden  to  exist?  So 
the  Middle  Ages,  with  all  their  cult  of  martyrs,  did 
not  read  the  writings  of  a  time  when  there  was  need 
to  defend  Christianity  before  the  pagan  government 
or  to  justify  it  in  the  eyes  of  the  pagan  people. 
Another  goodly  part  of  these  early  writings  was 
directed  against  pagan-Christian  heresies  (Gnosti- 
cism) of  which  the  Middle  Ages  knew  nothing.  One 
notes  with  interest  that  Lactantius,  who  writes  just 

1  "You  are  not  permitted  to  exist"  (Tertullian,  ApologeticTis) . 
Tertullian's  writings  are  so  difficult,  his  use  of  words  is  so  individ- 
ual, that  the  Middle  Ages  could  hardly  have  understood  him.  But 
his  phrases  seared  themselves  into  Latin  Christendom  in  the  third 
and  fourth  centuries,  and  passed  into  the  language  of  dogma,  and 
his  writings  were  a  store  for  later  Apologists.  He  also  was  an 
influence  with  the  important  poet  Prudentius  (Ebert,  Allge.  Ges. 
der  Lit.  des  Mittelalters,  2d  ed.,  I,  pp.  51,  276,  287).  Through  these 
media  he  is  indirectly  influential  in  the  later  periods,  when  his  works 
were  no  longer  read. 


14  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

as  the  pagan  empire  closes  and  Constantine  comes  to 
the  throne,  is  the  earliest  Christian  author  who  has 
any  mediaeval  vogue.  Yet  he  was  not  influential. 
The  great  Latin  Christian  personalities  of  the  fourth 
and  fifth  centuries  were  most  potent  in  moulding  or 
rather  in  creating  mediaeval  thought.  Ambrose,  Je- 
rome, Augustine,  Hilary  of  Poictiers,  these  founders 
of  Latin  Christianity,  recast  the  Christian  thought  of 
the  first  centuries;  and  it  is  through  these  mighty 
powers  —  through  Augustine,  the  giant  of  them  all  — 
that  early  Christian  writings  indirectly  affect  the 
Middle  Ages. 

Mention  has  been  made  of  certain  analogies  notice- 
able among  the  various  forms  of  decadence  and  change. 
Beyond  these,  there  will  be  seen,  throughout  the  fol- 
lowing chapters,  the  freeing  of  the  human  spirit  — 
both  its  intellect  and  its  passion  —  from  the  limita- 
tions of  the  antique  temperament  and  modes  of 
thought.  More  especially  this  will  characterize  the 
transition  from  pagan  to  Christian.  True,  the  Middle 
Ages  will  manifest  less  self-reliant  human  freedom 
than  antiquity,  and  will  even  take  on  new  spiritual 
bondage  in  fear  of  God  and  the  fate  of  man's  immortal 
soul.  But  they  will  know  no  bondage  to  any  restrict- 
ing principles  of  human  finitude  or  to  any  philosophic 
weighings  of  the  good  and  ill  or  even  the  rights  and 
wrongs  of  mortal  life. 

The  spiritual  liberation,  distinguishing  the  transi- 
tion through  which  the  antique  ceased  and  the  mediae- 
val began,  was  a  liberation  from  the  inherent  limits 
of  self-reliance,  and  consequently  from  the  limitations 
of    that    freedom   which    is    established    in    human 


i]  INTRODUCTION  15 

strength  and  the  rational  balancing  of  mortal  consid- 
erations. It  was  a  liberation  resting  upon  the  power 
of  God.  The  human  spirit,  responding  to  the  new 
Christ-awakened  sense  of  the  infinite  and  awful  power 
of  God's  love,  became  conscious  of  the  measureless 
reaches  of  the  soul  created  for  eternal  life  by  an 
infinite  and  eternally  loving  God.  The  soul  was 
lifted  out  of  its  finitude  to  the  infinite  which  is  its 
nature  and  its  home. 

This  freeing  of  the  human  spirit  will  first  appear 
in  the  modifications  of  the  antique  character  and  the 
disappearance  of  classic  traits :  the  genius  of  Neo- 
platonism  was  beating  against  barriers  which  were 
burst  through  only  by  the  Christian  faith.  Then  this 
liberation  will  appear  in  the  forms  of  decadence  shown 
by  pagan  productions  of  the  transition  and  pre-transi- 
tion  periods;  it  not  only  accompanies  but  it  will 
seem  part  of  the  decay  suffered  by  the  strong  and 
noble  qualities  of  classic  antiquity.  It  will  likewise 
appear,  often  grotesquely  and  irrationally,  in  the  loos- 
ing of  antique  pagan  thoughts  from  their  rational 
form  and  definite  application  w^hen  taken  over  into 
Christian  compositions.  Protagoras,  in  saying  that 
man  was  the  measure  of  all  things,  enunciated  what 
had  been  a  tacit  assumption  in  Greek  life  and  reflec- 
tion since  the  time  when  Homer  made  the  gods  so 
human.  Empedocles,  Anaxagoras,  Heraclitus,  had 
seen  principles  of  human  nature  reflected  in  the  laws 
of  the  universe,  and  Greek  metaphysics  never  ceased 
to  entertain  thoughts  of  a  cosmic  harmony  having  its 
microcosmic  pattern  in  the  temperance  and  proportion 
that  made  the  ideal  of  human  conduct.     Manifestly, 


16  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

Greek  ethical  reasoning  could  not  remain  undistorted 
when  forced  to  hold  Christian  precepts;  nor  could 
Greek  metaphysics  escape  perversion  when  used  by 
the  Church  Fathers  in  the  formulation  of  Christian 
dogma.  A  God-created  world,  with  men  God-created, 
God-beloved,  and  God-redeemed,  could  not  be  held  in 
the  categories  of  Greek  philosophy. 

Beyond  the  region  of  dogma  and  metaphysics,  the 
new  freedom  of  the  human  spirit  will  show  itself  with 
power  in  the  freeing  of  the  Christian  ideal  of  love 
from  thoughts  of  measure  and  mortality.  It  will  show 
itself  in  the  monk's  dismissal  of  pagan  proportion  and 
comprehensiveness  from  his  principles  of  life.  He  no 
longer  weighs  the  goods  and  ills  of  earth,  or  seeks  to 
make  his  life  humanly  complete.  He  has  broken  with 
the  mortal  and  the  finite.  He  knows  that  his  soul  is 
immortal,  and  can  be  blessed  only  in  the  everlasting 
love  of  God.  The  passion  of  this  infinite  love  is  his 
joy,  and  its  measurelessness  is  the  measure  of  his 
freedom. 

Finally,  very  interesting  is  this  freeing  of  the  spirit 
—  again  often  accompanied  by  the  destruction  of  what 
had  been  great  —  in  the  spheres  of  literature  and  art. 
It  is  seen  in  the  disintegration  of  the  balanced  periods 
of  classic  prose,  and  in  the  growth  of  new  kinds  of  prose 
compositions  having  scant  relationship  with  classic 
forms.  In  poetry,  with  emotional  impulses  creative 
in  their  strength,  it  displays  itself  in  the  abandonment 
of  classic  metres  and  the  devising  of  freer  forms  of 
verse,  which  shall  be  capable  of  voicing  the  Christian 
soul.  But  sometimes  it  shows  itself  barbarously  in 
the  misapplication  and  abuse  of  those  narrative  and 


i]  INTRODUCTION  17 

lyric  forms  of  poetry  which  the  classic  spirit,  with 
sure  discrimination,  had  devised  to  meet  the  several 
requirements  of  its  different  moods.  More  slowly 
and,  at  first,  less  articulately  than  in  poetry,  this  same 
freeing  of  the  spirit  will  show  itself  in  architecture, 
sculpture,  and  painting:  in  architecture,  as,  after  the 
creation  of  the  Byzantine  dome  and  the  tentative 
progress  of  the  Romanesque,  the  Gothic  finally  at- 
tains, and  the  vast  church  lifts  the  worshipper  to 
the  freedom  of  God's  infinite  heaven;  in  sculpture, 
as  the  carver  learns  to  cover  the  cathedral  with  the 
illimitable  story  of  creation,  of  man's  Fall  and  his  Re- 
demption, of  human  life  and  its  devilish  besettings, 
and  of  the  final  Judgment  unto  heaven  or  hell ;  in 
painting,  as  the  artist  learns  to  tell  in  color  this 
boundless  Christian  tale  and  at  last  to  depict  with 
subtilty  the  beatitudes  and  sorrows  of  the  Christian 
soul. 


CHAPTER   II 

THE    PASSING   OF    THE   ANTIQUE   MAN 

With  all  the  individual  and  racial  differences  among 
the  men  of  the  Middle  Ages  there  were  also  common 
characteristics.  The  mediaeval  man  was  not  spiritu- 
ally self-reliant,  his  character  was  not  consciously 
wrought  by  its  own  strength  of  mind  and  purpose. 
He  was  neither  rationally  self-controlled  nor  rationally 
free.  Subject  to  bursts  of  unrestraint,  he  yet  showed 
no  intelligent  desire  for  liberty.  He  relied  on  God 
or,  more  commonly,  upon  the  supernatural.  He  also 
looked  up  to  what  he  imagined  the  past  to  have 
been,  and  was  prone  to  accept  its  authority.1  He  was 
crushed  in  the  dust  with  a  sense  of  sin ;  he  was  ascetic 
in  his  deeper  thought.  He  was  also  emotional,  and 
with  heights  and  depths  of  emotion  undreamed  of  by 
antiquity.  He  had  no  clear-eyed  perception  of  the 
visible  world.  What  he  saw  he  looked  upon  as  a 
symbol ;  what  he  heard  he  understood  as  an  allegory. 
For  him  reality  lay  behind  and  beyond,  in  that  which 
the  symbol  symbolized  and  the  allegory  veiled. 

The  contrast  between  the  mediaeval  and  the  classic 
Greek  and  Roman  types  seems  absolute.  Yet  it  is 
possible  to  follow  the  change  from  the  classic  to  the 

1  On  the  great  fame  of  Konie  in  the  Middle  Ages,  see  Graf, 
Roma  nella  memoria  e  nelle  imaginazioni  del  Medio  Evo,  Cap.  I. 

18 


chap,  n]    THE  PASSING   OF  THE   ANTIQUE  MAN  19 

semi-antique  or  transitional  types  of  the  fourth,  and 
fifth  centuries.  These  pass  into  the  mediaeval  through 
gradual  modifications  arising  from  the  mingled  prog- 
ress and  decay  of  the  succeeding  centuries,  during 
which  the  barbarian  peoples  are  wrought  upon  and 
changed  by  the  authoritative  Christian  religion  and 
the  awe-inspiring  spectacle  of  the  Empire.  The  pres- 
ent chapter  will  be  devoted  to  the  change  from  the 
classic  to  the  transitional  pagan  types  of  the  fourth 
century. 

The  Greek,  as  well  as  the  Eoman,  was  self-reliant ; 
he  looked  to  himself  for  his  own  strength.  The  gods 
might  provide  opportunity,  or  they  might  thwart  men  or 
enmesh  the  self-reliant  doer  in  nets  of  fate.  But  the 
man  himself  and  the  quality  of  his  accomplishment 
were  the  work  of  his  own  strength  —  of  his  aptrrj 
(virtus)  and  irivvrrj  (prudentia),  his  valiant  energies 
and  the  mind  which  informed  and  guided  them.  Ee- 
specting  this  quality  of  self-reliance,  and  the  fears 
which  come  to  shake  it,  the  Greek  was  loftily  and 
constructively  imaginative  ;  the  Eoman  was  practi- 
cally apprehensive,  and  cautious  with  utmost  forti- 
tude. The  Greek  reasoned  upon  human  limitations 
and  man's  position  in  the  world.  He  coordinated 
these  limitations  in  philosophies,  and  drew  broad  de- 
ductions as  to  Fate  and  the  gods,  conceived  as  favora- 
ble or  untoward  powers  outside  of  man.  Also  the 
Greek  imagines  with  his  entire  nature  —  heart  and 
mind;  from  out  of  life's  limitations  he  visualizes  mor- 
tality, and  creates  epic  and  dramatic  instances  of  its 
types  or  carves  them  in  statues,  and  shows  man's 
spiritual  greatness  in  spite  of  Fate.     The  Eoman  has 


20  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

neither  artistic  imagination  nor  the  gift  of  abstract 
philosophic  reason ;  his  mind  is  not  filled  with  lofty- 
deductions,  it  does  not  create  philosophies  ;  it  guides 
the  feet  and  hands  of  Eomans  on,  not  to  the  empire 
of  the  spirit,  but  to  the  empire  of  the  world.  The  Ro- 
man realizes  life's  circumstantial  difficulties ;  he  knows 
that  weaker  power  cannot  withstand  the  stronger,  and 
he  sees  the  practical  dangers  of  battle  and  disease.  He 
will  take  all  the  precautions  of  prudence  against  these, 
and  will  propitiate  the  gods  most  carefully. 

The  Greek,  as  well  as  the  Eoman,  was  self-con- 
trolled. This  with  the  Greek  meant  a  self-proportion- 
ment  akin  to  his  artistic  love  of  beauty  in  the  visible 
world  and  in  the  world  of  spirit.  His  life  should  be 
fair  and  good,  beautifully  proportioned,  each  element 
cherished  at  its  due  worth.  He  would  seek  nothing 
excessively,  nor  anything  excessive  (firj&v  ayav),  he 
would  observe  the  glorious  and  beauty-giving  prin- 
ciples of  cuSws,  shame  at  all  things  shameful,  reverence 
for  all  things  to  be  revered ;  thus  rightly  distinguish- 
ing between  what  to  fear  and  what  not  to  fear.  So 
might  his  life  and  his  life's  close  be  beautified  by 
fame. 

Intimately  connected  with  the  principles  guiding 
Greek  conduct  were  those  defining  the  objects  of 
Greek  desire:  beauty  in  all  things,  broad  and  lofty 
knowledge  not  sought  merely  as  a  guide  of  conduct,  but 
desired  as  an  element  of  human  life.  There  was  har- 
mony and  union  between  the  love  of  beauty  and  the 
love  of  knowledge.  Due  proportionment,  right  rela- 
tion of  part  to  whole,  and  of  the  whole  to  other  things 
—  this  was  fundamental  to  the  thought  of  beauty. 


n]  THE  PASSING  OF  THE  ANTIQUE  MAN  21 

Knowledge  should  be  beautiful  as  well ;  it  should 
pertain  to  noblest  matters,  and  thus  preserve  the 
principle  of  proportionment  in  seeking  the  best  most 
strenuously.  Yet  the  love  of  beauty  entered  life's 
small  details  and  trivialities ;  and  the  love  of  knowl- 
edge was  not  academic,  for  the  Hellene  had  universal 
curiosity. 

Thus  giftM  with  clear  perception,  and  with  reason 
and  imagination  which  might  build  systems  of  philos- 
ophy or  present  life's  truths  in  poetry  and  sculpture, 
the  Greek  was  a  consummate  artist ;  he  could  create 
whatever  he  loved.  His  was  a  happy  nature,  and 
with  great  faculty  of  joy.  To  him  life  was  joyous, 
although  mortal,  and  its  prizes,  which  his  intellect 
approved,  were  to  be  desired  passionately.  Artist 
as  he  was,  his  was  the  passion  as  well  as  the  thought 
of  beauty. 

Men  who  thus  keenly  sought  whatever  they  desired, 
and  who  sought  ever  to  know  better  what  to  seek, 
desired  liberty  to  direct  their  lives  to  the  goal  of  their 
desire.  The  thoughtful,  eager  Greek  was  individual- 
istic, seeking  the  complete  fulfilment  of  his  many- 
sided  nature.  Philosophers  might  point  out  that  the 
State  was  the  greater  man,  the  all-embracing  consum- 
mation of  its  citizens.  And  in  great  Greek  days, 
citizens  made  this  real  in  beautiful  devotion  to  the 
city.  Nevertheless,  the  Greek  tended  always  to  re- 
vert to  the  living  of  his  own  life  in  its  most  perfect 
fulfilment. 

The  Eoman  was  undisturbed  by  a  multiplicity  of 
loves.  Self-control  was  a  simpler  quality  with  him 
than  with  the  Greek.     It  rose  from  practical  judgment, 


22  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

not  from  an  ideal  attempt  toward  the  universal  pro- 
portionment  of  life's  contents.  It  was  also  grounded 
in  a  sense  of  personal  dignity.  To  give  way  to  passion 
was  beneath  a  Roman.  In  affairs  within  the  city, 
self-control  was  utmost  political  common  sense;  as 
to  external  military  politics,  self-control  lay  in  daring 
what  might  be  dared,  in  fearing  what  should  be  feared, 
and  in  abiding  with  unshakeable  fortitude  in  whatever 
was  resolved.  The  Greeks  disapproved  what  was  un- 
limited or  unrestrained,  and  conceived  the  principle 
of  this  disapproval  as  the  Eomans  did  not.  Never- 
theless, actually,  Eoman  life  was  limited  more  nar- 
rowly. Its  object  and  scope  were  the  honor  and 
aggrandizement  of  the  State,  the  honor  and  enrichment 
of  the  family.  "Without  imagination,  without  broad 
desire  for  knowledge,  with  little  love  of  beauty,  with 
no  stinging  capacity  for  joy,  undistracted  from  the 
practical  task  in  hand,  the  Eoman  was  from  earliest 
times  the  grown-up  man  of  affairs.  Through  his  lack 
of  individualism,  his  abundant  caution  and  conserva- 
tism, he  preserved  and  perfected  fixed  types  of  civic 
life ;  he  was  the  paterfamilias,  he  was  the  citizen,  he 
was  the  citizen-soldier,  he  was  the  magistrate,  and  ful- 
filled all  these  functions  excellently  well,  pursuing 
whatever  lay  within  their  scope  with  unexampled 
pertinacity  and  fortitude. 

In  the  history  of  human  development  few  matters 
are  so  important  as  the  contact  between  the  Eoman 
and  the  Greek.  Eome  subjugated  Greece,  but  the 
effect  of  the  Eoman  on  the  Greek  is  of  slight  interest. 
It  is  the  influence  of  Greece  upon  Eome,  and  upon 
Italy   unified   under    Eoman    dominance,   that   is   of 


n]  THE   PASSING  OF   THE   ANTIQUE   MAN  23 

supreme  moment.  An  adequate  presentation  of  this 
influence  would  embrace  the  history  of  ancient  Italian 
culture  and  specifically  the  history  of  philosophy 
and  all  enlightened  thought  at  Rome,  of  Roman  art 
and  Latin  literature.  This  large  and  variously  told 
story  is  beyond  the  present  purpose.  Yet  only  a 
knowledge  of  the  great  extent  and  many  phases  of 
Greek  influence  upon  Italy  will  yield  an  understand- 
ing of  the  general  fact  that  by  the  time  of  Augustus 
the  men  of  Rome,  while  still  possessing  many  Roman 
traits  of  character,  were  Greek  to  the  full  extent  of 
their  capacities  for  Hellenization.  Their  Hellenism, 
however,  is  not  pure  Greek,  and  the  Roman  traits  are 
also  modified.  Much  of  the  Roman  fortitude  abides, 
and  Roman  dignity,  likewise  Roman  energy,  although 
the  Empire  closed  many  of  the  political  needs  and 
opportunities  which  had  made  the  lives  of  the  men 
of  the  Republic.  The  Roman  is  still  a  practical  man 
of  affairs,  though  the  better  regulation  of  imperial 
taxation  no  longer  permits  stupendous  private  enrich- 
ment out  of  the  subject  provincials.  The  great  matter 
is  that  he  has  tasted  the  tree  of  knowledge  of  good 
and  evil,  and  is  enlightened  for  better  and  for  worse. 
His  practical  intelligence,  energy,  and  valor  have  given 
him  the  mastery  of  the  Mediterranean  world.  His 
Greek  enlightenment  has  enabled  him  to  realize  that 
this  wide  power  is  Empire,  and  the  consciousness  of 
this  fact  widens  and  clears  his  vision.  While  the 
work  of  diplomacy  and  conquest  went  on,  the  Roman 
was  absorbed  in  deeds.  Now  the  Empire  is  fixed ; 
Deus  Terminus  will  advance  no  further,  but  the  god's 
strength  not  to  recede  is  ample.     The  civil  wars  are 


24  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

over.  There  is  now  more  leisure  to  consider  all  things 
and  contemplate  man.  But  the  manner  of  this  con- 
templation is  still  shaped  by  Eoman  traits.  There  is 
no  disinterested  quest  of  knowledge,  no  full  philoso- 
phy. Since  Aristotle,  that  had  hardly  thriven  even 
with  the  Greeks.  Philosophy  had  tended  to  narrow 
to  a  guide  of  life.  The  Eoman  had  never  any  com- 
pleter thought  of  it.  He  had  asked  always  from  his 
Greek  tutors  for  its  practical  teachings,  by  which  to 
conduct  his  life  more  satisfactorily.  He  desired  to 
know  for  that  purpose.  Yet  in  these  great  imperial 
times,  he  wished  to  know  life's  full  enlightenment  in 
order  to  conduct  it  well,  if,  indeed,  not  beautifully. 
He  would  have  the  aya66v,  though  he  never  quite  felt 
or  knew  the  kcl\6v.  Life  still  presented  itself  to  the 
Eoman  in  modes  of  doing  rather  than  in  modes  of 
being. 

The  Greek-enlightened  Eoman  was  still  self-reliant 
and  self-controlled.  But  now  these  qualities  were  as 
much  the  result  of  philosophic  consideration  as  of 
native  strength  of  character.  He  was  now  self-reliant 
because  his  philosophy  taught  him  that  the  human 
soul  must  rely  on  its  own  strength.  He  had  not  yet 
conceived  that  there  might  be  an  inner  spiritual  aid 
which  was  not  the  man  himself.  He  was  now  self- 
controlled  because  philosophy  taught  him  the  misery 
entailed  by  any  other  state.  He  was  rational  and  still 
relied  on  reason.  Yet  incidentally  he  was  superstitious, 
and  reverent  still  with  great  force  of  conservatism. 

To  the  close  of  the  Eepublic  the  Eomans  were 
provincials.  In  Cicero's  time  their  stiff  provincial 
dignity  turned  to  dignified  urbanity,  as  was  natural 


it]  THE  PASSING  OF  THE  ANTIQUE  MAN  25 

with  those  who  dwelt  in  a  city  which  was  becoming 
the  world's  centre  of  artistic  and  literary  life,  besides 
being  the  fountain-head  of  political  power.  Rome  set 
the  fashion  for  at  least  the  Latin  world,  and  men  of 
Africa  and  Spain  and  Gaul  were  influenced  by  the 
urbane  character  of  Romans  whose  power  held  the 
world,  and  whose  speech  and  literature  were  becoming 
the  speech  and  literature  of  the  world's  western  half. 
And  all  these  peoples  who  affected  Eoman  fashions, 
read  Latin  literature,  and  used  the  Latin  tongue,  were 
becoming  Roman-minded,  stamped  with  the  genius  of 
Rome ;  their  natures  took  the  impress  of  Rome's  chief 
intellectual  attainments,  especially  of  her  oratory  and 
her  law.  The  Roman  Law,  that  most  distinctive  origi- 
nal creation  of  the  Roman  people,  was  an  ever  working 
influence  upon  the  personalities  of  its  creators.  The 
Roman  was  always  a  legal-minded  man,  one  whose 
conceptions  naturally  framed  themselves  in  categories 
of  the  law.  The  quality  of  legal-mindedness  passes 
into  the  entire  Latin  world,  just  as  much  as  the  rhet- 
orical study  of  Latin  literature.  It  will  show  itself 
in  the  works  of  Christian  Fathers  as  markedly  as  in 
pagan  writings. 

Thus,  despite  the  influence  of  Hellenism,  many  dis- 
tinctive traits  of  Roman  character  remained ;  its  dig- 
nity, its  stanchness,  and  its  legal-mindedness,  its  love 
of  order,  of  civic  concordia  which  was  the  true  Roman 
analogue  of  the  more  philosophic  Greek  conception  of 

apfxovia. 

The  Greeks  themselves  were  also  undergoing  change. 
The  classic  strenuousness  had  gradually  passed  from 
the  Greek  intellect  and  character.     The  great  qualities 


26  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

of  intellect  and  temper  which  had  made  Greeks  Greeks, 
and  had  given  the  distinctive  and  preeminent  quali- 
ties to  the  creations  of  the  Greek  genius,  were  waning 
among  the  people,  and  were  not  strenuously  adhered 
to  and  insisted  upon  in  literature  or  philosophy.  These 
Greek  qualities  had,  for  instance,  shown  themselves 
clearly  in  form,  the  perfect  way  in  which  the  veritable 
subject  matter  was  presented,  without  impertinences 
or  distractions,  as  in  the  tragic  drama,  or  Phidian 
sculpture.  From  the  Alexandrian  times,  distractions 
and  impertinences  were  admitted  readily ;  the  forms 
of  literary  productions  lost  their  purity ;  the  matter 
was  less  noble,  and  less  strictly  presented.  Likewise 
the  subjects  of  sculpture  were  less  nobly  treated,  and 
that  art  declined  from  its  classic  purity,  for  instance, 
borrowing  picturesque  elements  from  painting.  Phi- 
losophy ceased  to  hold  the  grand  unity  of  life,  where- 
in knowledge  was  a  noble  element.  It  became  mere 
ethics,  yet  first  with  strenuous  reason,  as  among  early 
Stoics  and  Epicureans ;  then  that  too  relaxed,  till  with 
Plutarch  there  comes  a  hospitable  harboring  of  popu- 
lar superstitions  and  a  genial  attempt  to  justify  and 
systematize  them. 

The  fact  that  the  Greeks  in  the  fourth  century  be- 
fore Christ  were  ceasing  to  be  themselves  as  greatly 
as  they  had  been,  made  the  career  of  Philip  possible. 
Thereupon,  the  career  of  Alexander  made  Greek  civic 
freedom  a  thing  of  past  reality,  and  abolished  barriers, 
if  not  distinctions,  between  Hellas  and  the  East.  The 
life  of  a  pliant  cosmopolitan  was  now  open  to  the 
Greek.  As  the  cleverest  man  of  all  the  Mediterranean 
and  Asiatic  world,  he  could  use  whatever  circumstances 


n]  THE  PASSING   OF  THE  ANTIQUE  MAN  27 

he  found  himself  in.  And  as  his  strenuous  insistence 
on  his  own  great  distinctive  qualities  and  loves  was 
passing  from  him,  there  was  no  reason  why  he  should 
not  adapt  himself  to  circumstances,  and  also  adopt 
whatever  element  or  view  of  life  seemed  agreeable  or 
expedient.  His  mind  was  open  to  novelty,  his  taste 
was  less  exclusive,  his  reason  less  exacting.  So  he 
accepted  the  East  —  many  of  its  ways  of  thought  or 
foolishness,  and  whatever  of  its  emotion  and  ecstasy 
he  could  bring  himself  to  feel  or  imagine.  He  amused 
himself  with  hoary  dreams  in  Egypt,  with  more  luxu- 
rious emotion  in  Syria,  and  with  Phrygian  orgies  All 
this  told  upon  Greek  character ;  and  was  to  give  an 
oriental  color  to  Greek  thought  of  the  coming  centu- 
ries. It  naturally  affected  the  Greek  influence  on 
Rome,  whose  expanding  rule  was  also  bringing  many 
Greek-enlightened  Eomans  to  the  East. 

The  modifications  of  the  Greek  and  Roman  char- 
acters already  mentioned  appear  as  distinctly  intel- 
lectual. But  during  the  last  centuries  before  Christ 
another  change  had  been  going  on,  first  among  Greeks 
and  then  with  greater  fulness  of  promise  among  the 
Romans.  This  was  the  development  of  the  emotional 
side  of  the  human  spirit.  The  Greeks  of  Homer  had 
ready  emotions,  and  of  many  kinds,  —  a  full  and  fair 
foundation  for  a  catholic  growth  of  the  human  soul. 
Emotions  intensify  with  the  lyric  poets ;  each  lyrist 
represents  some  form  of  feeling  more  intensely,  or 
at  least  in  clearer  consciousness,  than  in  the  Epics. 
Archilochus'  poems  most  consciously  breathe  hatred ; 
those  of  Alcaeus,  the  ardor  of  high-born  defiance  of 
the  crowd ;  Mimnermus  and  Theognis  are  filled  with 


28  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

bitter  or  sad  feeling ;  Pindar  feels  fame ;  and  Sappho 
pours  forth  the  passion  of  the  vision  of  beauty.  The 
emotions  expressed  by  these  poets  are  direct  and  per- 
sonal, springing  from  their  own  desires  and  relating 
primarily  to  the  immediate  satisfying  of  them.  They 
are  not  broad  or  altruistic ;  they  do  not  rise  from  souls 
touched  by  the  sadness  of  others'  lives. 

The  intellect  predominates  in  Greek  tragedy.  With 
JSschylus  and  Sophocles  the  feeling  which  is  expressed 
is  intellectually  related  to  life's  ethical  proportion- 
ment.  The  inheritor  of  their  fame,  the  supplanter  of 
their  popularity,  Euripides,  certainly  understands  and 
perhaps  feels  human  emotion  in  its  varied  range  and 
bitterness.  After  the  great  period  of  tragedy,  those 
men  whose  names  make  up  the  roll  of  Alexandrian 
literature  had  personalities  too  petty  for  broad  feeling, 
though  some  of  them  could  express  personal  passion. 
The  dominance  of  the  intellect  is  no  longer  impressive, 
as  with  iEschylus  and  Sophocles,  yet  no  dominance  of 
great  emotion  succeeds  it,  but  only  an  uncompensated 
decline  from  the  power  and  loftiness  of  earlier  Greek 
poetry. 

The  story  of  Sculpture  is  analogous.  Formal 
strength  predominates  with  Polycletus,  the  living 
power  of  animal  life  with  Miron,  intellectuality  with 
Phidias,  and  all  things  physical  in  harmony  therewith. 
The  later  artists,  Scopas  and  Praxiteles,  and  many 
lesser  sculptors  after  them,  express  more  clearly  life's 
subtile  passions.  But  it  was  not  theirs  to  realize  the 
breadth  of  life.  The  development  of  human  capacity 
for  emotion  was  continuing;  but  a  greater  age  was 
needed,  with  greater  men ;  an  age  which  should  hold 


n]  THE  PASSING  OF  ^HE  ANTIQUE  MAN  29 

the  sum  of  its  spiritual  antecedents,  and  whose  sons 
should  greatly  show  the  heart's  growth  of  which  they 
were  the  last*  result.  Such  an  age  could  not  come  to 
Greece,  irrevocably  declining;  but,  through  Greece, 
such  an  age  was  to  come  to  Eome  in  the  fulness  of 
her  spiritual  strength.  And  it  was  a  Latin  that  should 
voice  the  saddened  grandeur  of  the  pagan  heart. 

Virgil  had  Roman  forerunners.  Catullus'  nature 
quivered  at  near  pain ;  and  perhaps  no  Greek  had  felt 
the  round  of  human  woe  as  deeply  as  Lucretius.  The 
emotional  capacities  of  these  two  were  modulated  and 
beautified  as  well  as  coordinated  with  life's  aspirations, 
in  Virgil.  His  nature  held  pity  for  life's  pitiful ness, 
sympathy  for  its  sadness,  love  for  its  loveliness,  and 
proud  hope  for  all  the  happiness  and  power  that  the 
imperial  era  had  in  store.  During  the  later  centuries 
of  the  Empire,  further  elements  were  to  enter  the 
antique  personality.  They  may  have  been  elements 
of  weakness,  due  to  the  senescence  of  the  Greek  and 
Latin  races.  They  were  at  all  events  to  prove  elements 
of  disintegration,  because  of  their  inconsistency  with 
the  rational  self-reliance  and  control  which  constituted 
the  strength  of  the  antique  man  whether  Koman  or 
Greek. 

Eeading  Horace,  one  is  impressed  with  the  sadness 
that  Epicureanism  was  resulting  in ;  and  the  reader 
notices  that  Horace  seeks  to  strengthen  his  latter  years 
with  the  teachings  of  the  Porch.  Yet  still  this  self- 
poised  man  looks  to  his  own  strength  for  peace ; 
Jove  may  furnish  opportunity ;  he  possesses  in  him- 
self the  strength  of  will  to  use  it  or  to  let  it  pass. 
When  Horace  was  no  more,  the  hesitating  thought  of 


30  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

seeking  spiritual  aid  through  prayer  came  to  the  last 
great  representatives  of  Stoicism  —  to  Epictetus  and 
to  Marcus;  perhaps  God  or  the  gods  may  help  the 
soul  to  resolve  more  firmly.  Stoicism,  however,  was 
losing  its  power  to  cheer ;  with  many,  the  system  was 
becoming  a  matter  of  devitalized  phrases.  True  Stoics 
needed  self-reliance  and  self-sufficiency,  qualities  which 
were  ceasing  to  be  general.  Humanity  was  a  little 
weary  of  its  self-poised  rationalism.  In  the  second 
century,  there  sprang  up  a  new  spirit  of  religiousness, 
showing  itself  in  a  craving  to  learn  the  future  from 
the  supernatural  powers  and  to  gain  their  aid  through 
prayers  or  sacrifices  or  magic  rites.  This  was  not  a 
crude,  strong  mode  of  religion,  capable  of  purification. 
Eather  it  represented  the  weakness  of  men  consciously 
turning  from  their  best  strength  and  highest  thoughts 
to  seek  aid  or  stupefaction  by  means  which  those  best 
thoughts  had  not  approved.  A  loftier  phase  of  the 
new  religiousness  lay  in  a  yearning  for  communion 
with  the  divine.  The  soul,  its  self-reliance  outworn, 
its  reason  found  empty,  was  seeking  to  renew  its  life 
through  ecstatic  union  with  God.  This  yearning  was 
to  create  philosophies  or  at  least  remould  old  thoughts. 
The  greatest  of  these  new  forms  of  philosophy  was 
Neo-platonism,  a  system  which  sought  in  dialectic 
mode  to  outsoar  reason  and  attain  the  super-rational. 
Its  goal  was  that  ecstatic  vision  in  which  sense  as  well 
as  reason  falls  away,  leaving  the  soul  enraptured  with 
the  immediacy  of  God. 

Neo-platonism  was  Hellenic  in  structure,  but  touched 
with  oriental  influences  which  entered  through  the 
eclectic  moods  of  the   Hellenic  temperament  of  the 


n]  THE  PASSING  OF  THE   ANTIQUE  MAN  31 

third  century.  It  passed  to  Rome,  and  found  many 
natures  open^to  it  among  Hellenized  Romans.  The 
goal  of  Neo-platonism,  like  the  yearning  whence  it 
sprang,  was  a  state  of  metaphysical  ultra-emotionalism. 
Might  not  this  philosophy  complement  the  human 
feelings  which  Virgil  voiced  and  which  touched 
Juvenal  with  a  sense  of  tears  ?  Would  not  such  a 
union  make  a  great  and  complete  personality?  It 
was  impossible.  That  final  Virgilian  compass  of  feel- 
ing was  real  love  and  pity.  Neo-platonic  ecstasy  was 
dialectic  mysticism,  which  had  uncertain  share  in  the 
heart's  realities.  Its  higher  modes  scorned  them,  its 
low  modes  debased  them.  Virgilian  feeling  could  not 
unite  with  such  phantasy  or  such  debasement.  Virgil's 
tenderness  for  all  life  might  have  made  part  with  the 
Christian  love  of  God.  But,  unhappily  for  this  con- 
summation, the  later  pagan  philosophy  devitalized  and 
mystified  such  love  of  God  as  paganism  seemed  to 
touch.  And,  on  the  other  hand,  there  had  come  on 
Christianity  a  monastic  asceticism  which  set  on  one 
side  the  love  of  God  and  against  it,  as  a  deviPs  snare, 
the  love  of  all  things  human.  The  round  of  noble 
human  feeling  could  not  include  itself  under  such  love 
of  God,  any  more  than  it  could  unite  with  the  Neo- 
platonic  ecstasy. 

The  apparent  portentous  fact  was  this :  with  the 
Augustan  era  the  final  catholic  development  of  the 
Hellenized  Latin  man  was  reached.  The  elements 
of  the  pagan  personality  might  severally  make  some 
special  advance.  There  might  be  a  weary,  but  com- 
plete, reliance  on  reason  in  Marcus  Aurelius,  a  con- 
scious sense  of  pity  in  Juvenal,  a  general  kindliness 


32  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap,  n 

in  the  younger  Pliny,  a  comprehensive  stately  view 
of  human  affairs  in  Tacitus  ;  and  the  Coptic  Greek 
Plotinus  might  create  a  final  dialectic  structure,  the 
rational  foundations  of  which  were  crowned  with  a 
super-rational  ecstasy.  But  there  was  not  sufficient 
strength  in  latter-day  paganism  to  make  a  living  unity 
out  of  these  elements. 


CHAPTEE  III 

PHASES    OF    PAGAN    DECADENCE 

The  fact  that  Christianity  drew  into  its  currents 
much  of  the  intellectual  strength  of  the  fourth  cen- 
tury may  have  checked  any  distinctive  pagan  progress. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  Greek  and  Latin  races,  apart 
from  the  Christian  inspiration  which  was  about  to 
touch  them,  were  in  a  state  of  decadence.  Evidence 
of  this  appears  on  every  hand.  For  instance,  it  was 
necessary  continually  to  recruit  the  Eoman  army  with 
new  barbarian  strength.  At  the  fall  of  the  Western 
Empire  (476)  the  army  had  become  so  completely 
barbarian  that  its  revolt  appears  as  a  barbarian  in- 
vasion. Odoakar  was  but  the  chief  barbarian  in  the 
Eoman  army,  till  he  chose  to  have  no  more  imperial 
shadows  in  Eavenna  or  Eome.  Further  symptoms  of 
decay  may  be  seen  in  the  gradual  extinction  of  civic 
life  in  the  cities,  until  municipal  organization  becomes 
mere  apparatus  for  assessment,  and  civic  honors  become 
burdens  from  which  there  is  no  escape.  Still  more  con- 
clusive evidence  is  afforded  by  the  diminishing  popu- 
lation of  Italy  and  the  older  provinces.  Very  striking 
also  is  the  decay  of  art ;  and,  lastly,  the  decadence  of 
the  Greek  and  Latin  pagan  personality  appears  in  the 
decline  of  literary  faculty  and  literary  taste. 

In  general  this  literary  decline  was  a  decline  from 
d  33 


34  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

relevancy  of  treatment  of  subjects  having  real  interest 
to  irrelevancy  of  treatment  of  subjects  having  no  real 
interest ;  from  setting  forth  veritable  features  of  human 
life  to  devising  preposterous  fictions ;  from  large  de- 
lineation of  human  character  to  the  absence  of  any 
veritable  and  distinctive  characterization  of  persons 
real  or  imaginary ;  from  setting  forth  the  course  of 
human  life  according  to  its  most  truly  considered 
laws  to  setting  it  forth  in  ways  of  happening  and 
accident,  which  bear  no  true  relation  to  character  and 
situation.  These  decadent  traits  do  not  all  appear 
in  any  one  class  of  compositions;  but  those  writ- 
ings which  exhibit  them  most  strikingly  are  those 
which  also  show  characteristics  of  mediaeval  litera- 
ture. Among  these  are  works  which  continued  in 
vogue  through  the  Middle  Ages,  or  served  as  the 
originals  from  which  by  translation  and  adaptation 
were  constructed  some  of  the  most  popular  mediaeval 
compositions.  Thus  these  latter-day  Graeco-Eoman 
writings  illustrate  how  the  classical,  or  rather  the 
Graeco-Eoman,  or  Hellenized  Eoman  personality,  was 
intellectually  declining  to  the  level  of  the  men  of  the 
early  mediaeval  times,  whether  barbarians  by  birth  or 
native  denizens  of  the  Empire. 

Ehetorical  studies,  and  compositions  of  a  rhetorical 
character,  illustrate  the  indiscriminate  use  of  subjects 
void  of  real  interest,  as  well  as  the  irrelevancy  of 
treatment  even  of  the  subject  chosen.  Eoman  rheto- 
ric had  been  a  great  civilizer  and  Eomanizer  of  con- 
quered provinces.  The  rhetorician  followed  hard  on 
the  army  to  teach  the  new  provincials  the  Eoman 
Latin  literature,  and  in  a  way  which  fostered  oratory 


in]  PHASES   OF   PAGAN   DECADENCE  35 

and  the  faculty  of  turning  off  rhetorically  proper  Latin 
phrases.  But  under  the  Empire,  oratory,  whether  prac- 
tised at  Rome  or  in  the  provinces,  was  emptied  of  its 
genuine  purpose,  which  is  to  express  opinions  held  upon 
public  matters  in  order  to  influence  the  action  of  free 
fellow-citizens.  Outside  the  business  of  the  law,  oratory 
became  empty  and  insincere.  It  had  its  apt  preparation 
in  the  schools  of  rhetoric,  where  the  rounding  of  gram- 
matical periods  in  prose  or  verse  was  everything,  while 
pertinency  to  anything  real  in  life  was  nothing.  Sub- 
jects of  study  and  discourse  rhetorically  selected  in 
order  to  cultivate  cleverness  of  expression,  do  not 
bind  the  writer  or  speaker  to  pertinency  to  the  matter 
in  hand.  Education  by  such  means  may  become  an 
education  in  irrelevancy  for  the  youth  of  a  society 
which  is  becoming  more  and  more  dilettante  as  it 
loses  power  to  shape  its  destinies. 

The  result  of  this  rhetorical  fostering  of  irrelevancy 
is  seen  in  compositions  written  for  an  occasion,  as  a 
panegyric  on  an  emperor.  These  are  flatteries,  if  not 
lies.  They  may,  however,  be  pertinent.  But  in  de- 
clining times  the  deeds  of  the  great  man  dwindle,  and 
the  orator  is  tempted  to  fill  out  his  speech  with  pretty 
matters  not  quite  pertinent.  At  last  these  panegyrics 
became  models  of  irrelevancy.  The  man  praised  is 
fulsomely  addressed  and  flattered,  and  great  deeds  are 
heaped  on  him.  Then  the  orator  may  pass  to  regions 
of  mythology  —  safe  topic  !  —  nor  return.  This  is  one 
mark  of  intellectual  decline ;  for  pertinency  of  treat- 
ment is  as  indicative  of  intellect  as  is  the  character  of 
the  subject  treated  and  the  reality  of  its  relationship 
to  life.     It  marks  one  phase  of  Roman  decline  that 


36  THE   CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

great  numbers  of  such  panegyrics  were  composed, 
delivered,  and  immensely  admired.  They  gave  Sym- 
machus  his  reputation ;  and  Sidonius  Apollinaris  was 
made  prcefectus  urbi  as  a  reward  for  one  addressed  to 
the  shadow  emperor  Anthemius.1 

In  the  antique  world  a  large  part  of  education  was 
education  in  literary  taste.  This  was  so  even  in  the 
times  of  the  great  Greek  lyric  and  dramatic  poetry, 
when  form  corresponded  perfectly  to  substance.  In 
the  Augustan  period,  and  previously,  the  Latins  sedu- 
lously studied  the  form  and  metres  of  approved  Greek 
compositions.  Their  best  writers  —  Catullus,  Lucre- 
tius, Cicero,  Virgil,  Horace,  Ovid  —  are  learned. 
Nevertheless,  in  the  good  literary  periods  there  was 
noble  substance  to  express,  and  the  study  of  form 

1  468  a.d.  A  like  emptiness  had  before  this  characterized  Greek 
rhetoric,  or  sophistic,  as  it  came  to  be  called.  It,  likewise,  had  no 
practical  purpose  to  subserve ;  it  ceased,  even  in  form,  to  be  foren- 
sic ;  it  became  a  matter  of  glittering  discourse  on  any  literary  sub- 
ject likely  to  interest  an  audience.  Then  it  drew  from  ethics  and 
philosophy,  and  its  discourses  became  beautiful  pagan  sermons. 
Some  sophists  had  great  reputations,  and  their  discourses  brought 
them  riches  and  honor.  See  C.  Martha,  "  La  predication  morale 
populaire,"  in  Les  moralistes  sous  Vempire  romain ;  Hatch,  Hib- 
bert  Lectures,  1888,  pp.  86-104;  Croiset,  Hist,  de  la  literature 
Grecque,  Vol.  V,  466  et  seq.  The  best  of  them  was  Dio,  a  native  of 
Prusa  in  Bithynia  (H.  von  Arnim,  Leben  und  Werke  des  Dio  von 
Prusa).  Throughout  the  Hellenic  East,  as  well  as  the  Latin  West, 
people  delighted  in  such  setting  together  of  brilliant  phrases  in 
beautiful  form.  They  were  thought  admirable  literary  creations, 
though  there  were  not  lacking  sincere  protests  (Epictetus,  Dis- 
courses, III,  23)  against  the  vain  and  mercenary  character  of 
the  men  and  the  shallowness  of  their  discourses.  Rhetoric  also 
infected  the  Greek  romances,  and  produced  such  a  rhetorician's 
biographical  romance  as  the  Life  of  Apollonius  of  Tyana,  by 
Philostratus. 


in]  PHASES   OF  PAGAN  DECADENCE  37 

occupied  its  proper  secondary  place  as  a  study  of  how 
most  fittingly  to  express  the  substance. 

After  the  death  of  Juvenal  and  Tacitus,  the  Latin 
power  of  literary  creation  waned  rapidly,  just  as  sub- 
stance and  sincerity  passed  from  oratory.  Yet  there 
was  increased  ardor  for  grammar  which  taught  cor- 
rectness of  expression,  and  for  rhetoric  which  sought 
to  teach  the  higher  virtues  of  style.  So,  both  in  prose 
and  verse,  the  study  of  form  went  on  while  substance 
diminished.  Latin  education  became  more  and  more 
education  in  literary  form.  But  form  deteriorates 
when  cultivated  exclusively,  since  it  can  be  good  only 
in  relation  to  the  substance  which  it  should  express. 
And  as  the  substance  dwindles,  the  tendency  develops 
to  treat  it  in  lofty  language.  Thus  poetry  and  oratory 
became  rhetorical  and  in  the  end  bombastic.  The 
latter-day  pagan  world  illustrates  the  common  rule, 
that  literary  taste,  cultivated  for  its  own  sake  in  a 
period  of  waning  creative  power,  becomes  vapid ;  and 
bad  taste  arising  in  this  way  is  an  evidence  of  general 
decline  —  of  decadent  humanity. 

An  interesting  illustration  of  this  is  the  decline 
in  the  literary  appreciation  of  the  greatest  work  of 
Rome's  greatest  poet.  As  decade  followed  decade, 
and  century  followed  century,  there  was  no  falling  off 
in  the  study  of  the  iEneid.  Virgil's  fame  towered, 
his  authority  became  absolute.  But  how  ?  In  what 
respect  ?  As  a  supreme  master  of  grammatical  cor- 
rectness and  rhetorical  excellence  and  of  all  learning. 
With  increasing  emptiness  of  soul,  the  grammarians 
—  the  "Virgils"  —  of  the  succeeding  centuries  put 
the  great  poet  to  ever  baser  uses.     Here  the  decadent 


38  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

Imperial  period  joins  hands  with  the  Middle  Ages. 
Even  before  the  fifth  century,  Virgil  was  regarded  with 
superstitious  veneration.  As  early  as  Hadrians  time 
the  habit  had  arisen  of  finding  one's  future  lot  indi- 
cated in  a  line  of  Virgil  chosen  at  random  —  the 
"  sortes  Virgilianae."  His  commentator  Macrobius, 
a  contemporary  of  Jerome  and  Augustine,  holds  him 
to  be  infallible  in  every  branch  of  learning.  Hence, 
he  is  an  authority  respecting  everything  as  to  which  an 
opinion  can  be  elicited  from  the  real  or  imagined  mean- 
ing of  his  language.  This  is  a  point  of  joinder  with 
the  ^Middle  Ages ;  for  the  mediaeval  man  who  read 
old  Latin  authors  regarded  them  primarily  as  authori- 
ties upon  whatever  branch  of  fact  they  seemed  to 
treat ;  their  statements  were  accepted  as  true. 

When  Latin  poetry  culminated  in  Virgil,  there  was 
no  greatness  left  in  Greek  literature,  which,  however, 
was  still  to  show  some  small  excellences  from  time  to 
time.  Plutarch,  for  example,  catches  the  illustrative 
pertinence  of  the  incidents  he  tells.  His  narratives 
bring  out  the  characters  of  his  worthies ;  and  he  sees 
a  relation  between  a  man's  character  and  his  fortunes. 
But  even  in  Plutarch's  time  writings  were  coming 
into  vogue  which  had  lost  all  sense  of  ordered  causal 
sequence  of  events,  as  well  as  of  anecdotical  pertinence ; 
and,  lacking  all  perception  of  character,  they  failed  to 
preserve  any  proper  relation  of  fortune  to  the  person- 
ality of  the  hero,  or  rather  to  the  personality  of  him 
to  whom  the  incidents  of  the  story  happen. 

A  typical  example  is  the  Life  and  Deeds  of  Alex- 
cinder  the  Great,  by  the  pseudo-Callisthenes.  This 
work  probably  was  written  in  Egypt  not  later  than 


in]  PHASES   OF  PAGAN  DECADENCE  39 

the  year  100  a.d.1  Its  most  apparent  motive  was  to 
give  an  Egyptian  parentage  to  the  great  conqueror. 
Though  the  narrative  is  utterly  unhistorical,  it  is  not 
an  original  romance  invented  by  its  author;  for 
it  appears  to  have  been  put  together  from  popu- 
lar Graeco-oriental  myths  respecting  the  conqueror's 
career.  Some  of  these  stories  originally  may  have 
had  no  connection  with  Alexander,  but  were  gradually 
attached  to  him,  just  as  the  French  chansons  de 
geste  ascribe  to  Charlemagne  and  his  peers  many 
deeds  of  former  heroes  whose  fame  was  absorbed  in 
the  epic  effulgence  of  the  greatest  of  mediaeval  em- 
perors. But  whatever  its  source,  this  collection  of 
fantastic,  impossible  stories  exhibits  all  manner  of 
literary  decline.  In  place  of  deeds  which  some  hero 
might  have  done,  there  is  a  succession  of  preposterous 
occurrences  having  no  related  sequence;  nothing  of 
real  human  significance  takes  place ;  there  is  no  rela- 
tion of  fortune  to  character;  and  no  character  to 
which  one  lot  rather  than  another  might  properly 
have  fallen. 

Adaptations  of  this  work — in  some  of  them  Alex- 
ander is  a  propagator  of  the  Christian  faith  —  in  many 
languages  filled  the  East;  it  was  turned  into  Latin, 
and  Latin  versions  of  it  in  the  West  were  the  chief 
source  of  that  vast  company  of  versified  vernacular 
romances  which,  while  they  fed  the  mediaeval  passion 
for  the  remote  and  marvellous,  also  satisfied  the  his- 
toric  and   literary  sense   of  the   Middle   Ages  with 

1  It  is  interesting  to  note  that  it  is  not  later  than  the  time  of 
Arrian,  who  wrote  the  most  sober  historical  account  of  Alexander 
that  we  possess. 


40  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

respect  to  the  great  conqueror.  Perhaps  no  other 
work  so  illustrates  the  juncture  of  the  Middle  Ages 
with  antiquity  on  a  common  level  of  degeneracy  and 
barbarism  —  unless  it  be  the  Tale  of  Troy.  This  ap- 
pears to  pass  over  into  the  popular  literature  of  the 
Middle  Ages  through  the  medium  of  writings  pseu- 
donymously  ascribed  to  "Dares  the  Phrygian"  and 
"Dictys  the  Cretan."  The  extant  " Dares"  is  in 
Latin,  and  evidently  is  neither  an  original  composition 
nor  a  proper  translation.  Its  date  is  hardly  prior  to  the 
sixth  century.  It  is  an  epitome  of  some  other  work,  and 
thus  bears  analogy  to  the  forms  in  which  so  much  of 
classic  culture  passed  over  to  the  Middle  Ages.  The 
sources  of  "  Dares "  are  lost.  Probably  there  was  a 
Greek  original,  written  by  some  one  well  acquainted 
with  the  old  cyclic  and  tragic  poets.  This  would  seem 
to  have  been  turned  into  Latin,  and  from  this  Latin 
version  our  extant  "Dares"  was  compiled  by  some 
degenerate.  It  lacks  style  and  form,  and  is  utterly 
wanting  in  proportion  ;  vital  events  are  told  in  a  few 
bald  sentences,  while  matters  antecedent  and  irrele- 
vant are  retained  and  given  at  considerable  length. 
Its  mechanical  monotony  precludes  the  possibility  of 
its  being  an  original  composition  —  the  maker  of  such 
a  work  could  not  have  invented  anything.  We  also 
notice  that  it  foreshadows  the  mediaeval  epic  way  of 
prefacing  the  main  story  with  the  fortunes  of  the 
ancestors  or  typical  forerunners  of  the  heroes.1  The 
extant  "Dictys"  is  a  similar  though  less  miserable 
composition.     It  is  fairly  written,  and  the  narrative 

1  As  in  the  Kudrun,  in  Gotfried's  Tristan,  or  Wolfram's  Par- 
zival. 


in]  PHASES  OF  PAGAN  DECADENCE  41 

has  some  proportion.  It  seems  to  have  been  trans- 
lated from  a  Greek  original.1 

In  the  twelfth  century  the  Tale  of  Troy  received  its 
grandiose  mediaeval  telling,  in  thirty  thousand  lines, 
by  Benoit  de  Sainte-lMore.  He  gives  the  story  as  its 
threads  exist  in  the  extant  "  Dares "  and  "Dictys," 
and  appears  to  observe  the  authority  of  the  former  to 
line  24301,  and  then  the  story  of  "  Dictys  "  to  the  end. 
But  probably  Benoit  followed  a  lengthier  Latin  ver- 
sion than  the  extant  "  Dares,"  possibly  the  very  one 
of  which  that  is  the  epitome.  He  may  also  have  been 
acquainted  with  a  lengthier  "  Dictys  "  version. 

Further  illustration  of  the  degeneracy  of  Greek 
literature  is  afforded  by  the  Greek  love-romances,  as, 
for  example,  the  Ethiopia*  of  Heliodorus  and  the  Leu- 
cipjoe  and  Clitiphon  of  Achilles  Tatius,  both  of  whom 
lived  in  the  third  or  fourth  century  after  Christ. 
Their  delineation  of  character  is  poor,  and  there  is 
scant  relation  of  character  and  fortune.  They  elabo- 
rate themes  which  first  became  prominent  literary 
motives  in  Alexandrian  literature.  They  are  stories 
of  pairs  of  lovers,  to  whom  all  kinds  of  unexpected 
ill-chance  happen.  The  man's  life  and  the  girl's  life 
and  chastity  are  preserved  through  it  all,  and  a  happy 
marriage  ends  the  tale.  The  gods  often  interpose  to 
avert  death  or  ruin;  but  their  interpositions  and  all 
the  ups  and  downs  of  fortune  coming  to  the  lovers 
show  that  the  only  real  power  in  these  romances  is 

1  See  E.  Patzig,  "Dictys  Cretensis,"  Byzantinische  Zeitschrift, 
1892,  pp.  131-152,  also  p.  590.  The  Greek  versions  of  Trojan  legends 
in  the  Heroicos  of  Philostratus  (author  of  the  Life  of  Apollonius  of 
Tyana)  of  the  second  century  may  be  compared  with  the  Dares  and 
Dictys  narratives. 


42  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

chance  —  r^.  Chance,  stringing  itself  out  in  a 
succession  of  unexpected  happenings,  cannot  make 
a  plot  to  satisfy  an  intelligent  person.  Such  a  plot 
would  have  been  abominable  to  iEschylus  or  Sopho- 
cles or  Aristotle  or  to  Homer;  for  the  adventures 
which  befall  Odysseus  in  the  Odyssey  serve  to  bring 
out  that  hero's  greatness  of  character,  and  are  accom- 
plished by  him  as  only  he  could  have  accomplished  them. 
But  the  hero  and  heroine  in  these  Greek  romances  are 
characterless  puppets,  to  whom  nothing  happens  in 
accordance  with  any  law  of  life  or  fate.  Yet  we  may 
bear  in  mind  that  in  the  Greek  romances  fantasy  is 
dominant,  and  hence  there  is  no  rationally  constructed 
sequence  of  occurrences ;  and  also  that  in  the  Old  Com- 
edy the  plot  was  far  less  rigorous  than  in  tragedy.  But 
Aristophanes  was  a  wilful  giant,  rollicking  in  imagin- 
ings which  no  chains  of  reason  could  hold.  He  could 
also  revere  the  greatness  of  iEschylus.  The  imagination 
of  the  Greek  romances  consists  mostly  in  failure  to  ap- 
preciate  causality  in  fiction,  and  to  grasp  the  laws  of  life. 
These  stories  also  are  rhetorical,  the  writers  lov- 
ing their  polished,  conventional,  and  often  borrowed 
phrases.  There  are  lengthy  descriptions  of  the  coun- 
tries to  which  the  lovers  come,  and  the  customs  of  the 
people.  The  poems  of  the  Alexandrian  poets,  The- 
ocritus and  Moschus,  were  pictorial,  and  contained 
charming  pictures  of  the  deeds  or  situations  of  their 
heroes.  Achilles  Tatius  seeks  to  outdo  these  real 
poets  with  elaborate  descriptions  of  actual  paintings 
which  his  lovers'  eyes  chance  to  rest  on.1 

1  The  Leucippe  and  Clitiphon  opens  with  a  long  description  of 
a  picture  of  Europa  and  the  Bull,  seen  by  Clitiphon  in  a  temple  at 


in]  PHASES   OF   PAGAN   DECADENCE  43 

These  romances  have  another  unmistakable  trait  of 
decadence.  Although  love  stories,  they  express  lu- 
bricity rather  than  passion.  The  passion  of  love  had 
been  sung  by  Sappho ;  it  had  been  made  pastoral  by 
Theocritus.  Again,  utter  coarseness,  life  unveiled 
amid  loud  laughter,  wanton  animal  exuberance,  had 
also  existed  in  literature,  as  with  Aristophanes;  yet 
these  traits  did  not  indicate  a  polluted  mind.  The 
interest  lay  in  the  fun,  which  might  seize  on  any  sub- 
ject, and  quite  readily  on  what  was  obscene.  But  the 
Greek  romances,  like  their  forerunner,  Lucian's  Ass, 
contain  neither  overmastering  passion  nor  the  indis- 
criminate laughter  which  may  take  one  subject  as 
readily  as  another.  They  contain  much  that  touches 
only  sexual  desire,  which  they  seem  intended  to  arouse. 
Sometimes  shameless  details  are  told,  showing  what 
the  author  and  his  public  really  cared  for.  Passion 
has  been  always  part  of  human  strength.  But  there 
is  no  surer  sign  of  decadence  than  the  dwelling  of  the 
mind  on  such  matters  as  are  prominent  in  the  Greek 
romances. 

Sidon.  In  Book  III  pictures  of  Andromeda  and  of  Prometheus  are 
described,  and  near  the  beginning  of  Book  V  a  picture  of  Philomela 
and  Tereus. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE    ANTIQUE    CULTURE 

I.    The  Transmission  of  Letters 

The  influence  of  Greek  models  upon  the  develop- 
ment of  Latin  literature  under  the  Republic  and 
during  the  first  years  of  the  Empire  was  quite  dif- 
ferent from  the  Greek  literary  fashions,  which  after- 
ward set  in  at  Rome  and  reached  their  height  when 
a  Roman  emperor  wrote  his  Thoughts  in  Greek.  A 
blank  literary  period  followed,  and  then  Latin  litera- 
ture reasserted  itself,  and  even  spread  geographically. 
From  the  fourth  century  the  Greek  tongue  and  litera- 
ture were  no  longer  at  home  in  Italy,  while  the  knowl- 
edge of  Greek  became  more  and  more  scanty  in  those 
lands  which  had  been,  or  still  were,  the  western  prov- 
inces of  the  Empire.  In  the  sixth  and  seventh  cen- 
turies the  Irish  were  well  nigh  the  only  western  Greek 
scholars.  Ireland  had  been  spared  the  torrential  bar- 
barian invasions,  and  now  its  scholars  spread  culture 
in  Gaul  and  northern  Italy,  and  kept  the  knowledge 
of  Greek  from  extinction.  Nevertheless  Greek  works 
almost  ceased  to  be  read. 

Latin  had  become  universal  in  the  West,  and  was 
to  be  for  centuries  the  common  speech  of  educated 
men  and  serve  as  their  literary  vehicle.     The  Latin 

44 


chap,  iv]        THE  TRANSMISSION  OF   LETTERS  45 

literature  passed  over  into  the  Middle  Ages  in  its 
classic  writings,  and  also  in  the  summarizing  and 
remodelling  works  of  the  transition  centuries. 

For  the  preservation  of  the  classics  in  the  period 
of  barbarian  wars,  no  man  deserves  equal  glory  with 
Cassiodorus,  the  Roman-minded  minister  of  Theodoric 
the  Ostrogoth.  As  an  old  man,  in  the  year  540,  he 
founded  the  cloister  of  Vivarium  in  the  extreme  south 
of  Italy.  There  he  first  incited  monks  to  study  the 
classics  and  copy  the  manuscripts.  The  example  was 
followed  in  the  rapidly  increasing  monasteries  of  the 
Benedictines.  Of  great  importance  also  were  the 
labors  of  the  Irish,  of  Columbanus  above  all,  who, 
in  615,  founded  that  home  of  letters,  the  cloister 
of  Bobbio,  in  the  north  of  Italy.  Then  the  Anglo- 
Saxons,  eagerly  learning  from  the  Irish,  take  up  the 
good  work,  —  and  the  famous  names  are  Aldhelm 
(d.  709),  Bede  (d.  735),  Bonifacius-Winfried  (d.  755), 
and  Alcuin,  Charlemagne's  minister  of  education.1 
These  men  were  monks,  and  to  monks,  generally 
speaking,  was  due  the  preservation  of  the  classics. 
Js"ot  that  they  had  any  special  love  for  the  classics,2 
which  they  often  erased  in  order  to  write  the  lives 
of  saints  on  the  profane  parchment.  Nor  was  the 
church  altogether  friendly  to  pagan  literature.     The 

1  See  Ebert,  op.  cit.,  under  these  names:  Norden,  AntiTce  Kunst- 
prosa,  pp.  665-669;  Ozanam,  Civ.  Chre't.  chez  les  Francs,  Chaps.  IV, 
V,  and  IX. 

2  The  rules  of  Isidore  of  Seville  and  of  some  other  monastic  legis- 
lators forbade  the  reading  of  pagan  writings  without  special  per- 
mission. See  Comparetti,  Virgil  in  the  Middle  Ages,  p.  85;  Graf, 
Roma  nella  memoria  e  nelle  imaginazioni  del  Medio  Evo,  II,  p.  161  ; 
Specht,  Geschichte  des  Unterrichtsicesens  in  Deutschland,  pp.  40-57. 


46  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

classics  could  be  preserved  only  by  men  who  could 
write,  and  such  men  lived  in  cloisters,  which  also 
afforded  leisure  for  the  labor  and  safekeeping  for 
its  result. 

Thus  classic  literature  reached  the  Middle  Ages 
through  the  same  agents  that  brought  the  authori- 
tative Roman-Christian  religion.  The  classic  writ- 
ings were  received  as  the  works  of  a  greater  time; 
they  were  accepted  as  authorities  upon  whatever  topic 
they  treated  or  could  be  interpreted  into  treating.1 
There  was  little  literary  appreciation  of  them,  and 
scanty  severing  of  legend  and  fiction  from  history  and 
science.  The  utmost  human  knowledge  was  ascribed 
to  the  authors.  It  also  fell  in  with  the  temper  of  the 
Middle  Ages  to  interpret  the  classics,  like  the  Scrip- 
tures, allegorically.  As  Virgil  was  the  supreme  Latin 
author,  the  strangest  examples  of  allegorical  interpre- 
tation are  connected  with  his  writings.2     Finally,  the 

1  It  is  characteristic  of  the  mediaeval  use  of  ancient  literature 
that  it  is  taken  as  authoritative.  What  was  a  work  of  art  or  fan- 
ciful literature  may  be  taken  as  praecepta,  e.g.,  Praecepta  Ovidii 
doctoris  egregii,  as  in  the  beginning  of  the  Romaricimontis  Con- 
cilius  of  the  early  twelfth  (or  eleventh)  century.  See  Langlois, 
Sources  de  la  Roman  de  la  Rose  (Vol.  57  Ecole  Francais  of  Rome, 
p.  7,  etc.).  The  manner  in  which  the  Middle  Ages  accept  matters 
on  authority  is  still  shown  in  Dante.  In  Conv.  Ill,  5,  he  says  that 
Aristotle  — "  that  glorious  philosopher  to  whom  above  all  others 
Nature  disclosed  her  secrets  "  —  has  proved  that  the  earth  is  immov- 
able ;  he  adds  that  he  will  not  repeat  Aristotle's  arguments  because 
"  it  is  enough  for  all  people  that  I  address  to  know  per  la  sua  grande 
autorita"  that  this  earth  is  fixed  and  does  not  revolve.  Cf .  Moore, 
Scripture  and  Classics  in  Dante,  p.  9. 

2  An  extraordinary  example  is  the  De  Continent  la  Vergiliana  of 
Fulgentius,  written  not  later  than  the  sixth  century.  See  Compa- 
retti,  op.  cit.t  Chap.  VIII,  Ebert,  op.  cit.,  I,  p.  480. 


iv]  THE  TRANSMISSION  OF  LETTERS  47 

ignorance  and  fantastic  spirit  of  the  Middle  Ages 
ascribed  magic  powers  and  marvellous  careers  to  the 
classic  authors. 

Many  monks  regarded  the  classics  as  a  source  of 
sinful  pleasure,  save  when  used  for  some  educational 
purpose  according  with  the  views  of  the  times.  If 
that  purpose  could  be  attained  in  a  shorter  way,  why 
read  the  classic  authors?  Mediaeval  education  was 
comprised  in  the  trivium  and  quadrivium,  the  seven 
liberal  arts  of  Grammar,  Dialectic,  Rhetoric,  Geome- 
try, Arithmetic,  Astronomy,  and  Music.  These  had 
been  held  by  the  ancients  to  be  preparatory  to  the 
study  of  philosophy.  The  Christian  Alexandrians, 
Clement  and  Origen,  accepted  this  view  and  went  a 
step  farther.  For  they  held  that  philosophy  and 
all  its  preparatory  studies  were  preparation  for  an 
understanding  of  Christian  theology.  In  a  narrower 
and  barbaric  way  the  Middle  Ages  held  that  liberal 
studies  were  the  handmaids  of  theology.1  The  seven 
arts  included  all  that  was  necessary  as  a  preparation 
for  theology,  and  could  most  conveniently  be  studied 
in  compendia.  Hence  it  seemed  useless  to  read  the 
authors  themselves.     This  view  tended  to  discourage 

1  See  Norden,  AntiJce  Kunstprosa,  pp.  680  et  seq.,  where  passages 
are  collected  and  quoted  bearing  on  this  subject;  i.e.  Ennodius, 
ep.  IX,  9;  Carolus  Magnus,  Epist.  de  Uteris  colendis,  Hon.  Germ, 
leg.  sect.  II,  torn.  I,  p.  79;  Alcuinus,  Grammatica,  Migne,  Patr. 
Lat.,  Vol.  101,  col.  853;  Notker  Labeo,  in  a  letter,  ed.  by  P.  Piper, 
Die  Schriften  Notker' s,  pp.  859  ff. ;  Honorius  Augustodunensis,  de 
artibus,  ed.  Pez,  Thes.  anec.  noviss.,  II  (1721),  227  ff. ;  Abelard, 
Introductio  ad  theologiam,  opera  ed.  Cousin,  Vol.  II,  pp.  67  fr*. ; 
Hugo  de  St.  Victor,  Erudit.  didasc,  1,  III,  c.  3  (Migne,  torn.  176, 
col.  768)  ;  John  of  Salisbury,  Entheticus,  V,  373  f .  (Vol.  V,  p.  250, 
ed.  Giles) . 


48  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

the  reading  of  the  classics ;  but  there  was  great  diver- 
sity of  individual  taste  and  opinion  and  practice.  The 
general  statement  may  be  made  that,  as  century  after 
century  men  grew  in  humanity,  there  came  a  deeper 
literary  appreciation  of  the  classics,  forming  a  transi- 
tion to  the  poetic  and  literary  reverence  in  which  they 
were  to  be  held  by  Boccaccio  and  Petrarch. 

Men  use  what  they  have  need  of  and  appreciate 
what  is  nearest  to  their  temper  and  intellectual  level. 
The  works  of  the  Latin  commentators  and  gramma- 
rians—  Servius,  Donatus,  Macrobius,  Priscianus  — 
were  needed  when  they  were  written,  as  well  as  after- 
wards, in  order  to  preserve  some  knowledge  of  the 
structure  of  the  Latin  language.  They  were  funda- 
mental in  the  studies  prosecuted  in  the  schools  of 
mediaeval  education.1  Besides  these  grammarians, 
there  were  other  men  of  the  transition  centuries  who 
wrote  compendia  of  the  seven  liberal  arts,  and  still 
others  who  summarized  pagan  ethics  or  philosophy. 
Such  transition  works  remained  widely  popular ;  some 
of  them  became  standard  text-books  in  the  schools; 
and  through  them  the  men  of  the  Middle  Ages  re- 
ceived their  profane  education  and  the  larger  part  of 
their  classical  knowledge.  They  were  true  works  of 
the  transition  period,  gathering  and  selecting  from 
the  classic  past,  recasting  and  presenting  the  antique 
substance  in  forms  suited  to  the  tastes  and  capacities 
of  their  own  and  the  following  centuries.     We  may 

1  See  as  to  these  works,  which  were  mainly  based  on  Virgil, 
Comparetti,  op.  cit.,  Chap.  V;  Teuffel-Schwabe,  Geschichte  der  Rom. 
Lit.,  II,  §§  409,  431,  444,  481.  How  much  Priscianus  (sixth  century) 
was  used  maybe  inferred  from  the  fact  that  there  are  extant  nearly 
a  thousand  manuscripts  of  his  grammar,  Teuffel,  op.  cit.,  II,  §  481. 


iv]  THE  TRANSMISSION  OF  LETTERS  49 

outline  the  contents  of  the  two  most  famous  of  them, 
the  one  a  compendium  of  the  seven  liberal  arts, 
the  other  a  final  presentation  of  the  ethics  of  pagan 
philosophy. 

Perhaps  the  most  widely  used  school  book  of  the 
Middle  Ages  was  the  De  Nujitiis  Philologiae  et  Mercurii 
by  Martianus  Capella,  an  African  Xeo-platonist,  who 
wrote  in  the  first  part  of  the  fifth  century.1  It  is  a 
work  in  nine  books.  The  first  two  are  devoted  to  the 
allegorical  narrative  of  the  marriage  of  Mercury  with 
the  polymath  virgin  Philology.  Mercury2  seeks  a 
bride ;  he  cannot  have  Sophia  or  Mantice  or  Psyche ; 
Virtus  counsels  him  to  ask  Apollo's  advice,  and  Apollo 
advises  him  to  wed  Philology.  Under  the  joyful 
convoy  of  the  Muses  and  enzephyred  by  the  music 
of  the  spheres,  Virtus,  Apollo,  and  the  bridegroom  fly 
to  Jove's  palace  to  ask  his  consent.  A  council  of  the 
gods  is  summoned ;  a  favorable  decision  is  reached ;  the 
bride  shall  be  raised  to  divine  rank.  With  the  second 
book  she  appears,  desiring  the  marriage,  but  fearful 
at  the  greatness  of  the  honor.  Her  mother,  Phronesis, 
adorns  her  for  the  wedding ;  four  noble  matrons,  the 
cardinal  virtues,  greet  her,  and  the  Graces,  with  three 
mystic  kisses,  give  her  courage.  Athanasia,  daughter 
of  Apotheosis,  comes  to  lead  her  to  Heaven,  but  first 
commands  her  to  deliver  that  with  which  her  bosom 
is  seen  to  swell ;  at  this  she  vomits  forth  many  rolls 

1  On  the  date  of  Capella,  see  H.  Parker,  "The  Seven  Liberal 
Arts,"  English  Historical  Review,  1890. 

2  Mercury  —  or  Hermes  —  is,  according  to  Plotinus,  the  Aoyo?; 
hence  the  propriety  of  his  marriage  with  Philology  (4>lkeiv-\6yov) . 
Zeller,  Phil,  der  Griechen,  III,  2,  p.  561;  Ebert,  op.  cit.,  I,  p.  483, 
note. 

E 


50  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

of  papyrus  and  of  linen,  which  are  gathered  up  by 
the  Virgin  Artes  and  Disciplinae,  Urania  and  Calliope 
helping.  The  bride  now  drains  the  goblet  of  immor- 
tality, and  rises  to  heaven,  where  Juno  Pronuba  meets 
her  with  offerings.  Under  the  guidance  of  Juno,  she 
traverses  the  circles  of  the  planets  and  reaches  the 
Milky  Way,  where  Jove's  palace  is.  There  all  the 
gods  and  beings  known  to  Latin  mythology  assemble, 
with  here  and  there  a  deity  from  Egypt,  besides  the 
guards  of  the  elements  (elementorum  praesides)  and  a 
most  beauteous  company  of  the  angelic  folk  and  souls 
of  blessed  ancients.  Now  the  bride's  prudent  mother 
demands  a  reading  of  the  tables  of  dower  and  the 
lex  Papia  Poppaeaque,  regarding  the  property  rights 
of  married  women.  Thereupon  Phoebus  rises  and 
leads  forward,  to  place  with  the  bridal  gifts,  seven 
maid-servants  from  his  brother's  household;  these 
are  the  seven  Artes  —  Ars  Grammatica;  Ars  Dia- 
betica, "  a  little  paler ;  "  Ehetorica  ;  Geometria ; 1 
Arithmetica;  Astronomia;  Harmonia.  Each  one,  as 
Phoebus  leads  her  forward,  tells  her  parentage,  and 
then  expounds  the  substance  of  her  art,  most  dryly, 
all  virginal  allegory  laid  aside.  They  have  a  book 
apiece,  and  make  up  the  tale  of  the  nine  books  of 
Capella. 

This  work  became  the  "  standard "  school  book  of 
the  Middle  Ages.  Its  form  and  character  anticipates 
mediaeval  taste,  upon  which  it  was  to  be  so  influential. 
It  is  written  in  prose  and  verse,  the  chantefable  form  ; 2 

1  Which  includes  geography. 

2  As  with  Boethius'  Be  Consolatione  Philosophiae.  Properly 
speaking,  the  origin  of  this  is  the  Roman  Satura  Menippea. 


iv]  THE  TRANSMISSION  OF  LETTERS  51 

though  the  song-element  is  unimportant  in  the  last 
seven  books.  These  are  strictly  instructive,  and 
sapless  as  the  rods  of  mediaeval  schoolmasters.  The 
allegory  of  the  first  two  books  is  pleasingly  pedan- 
tic and  the  whole  work  presents  the  sterile  union 
of  fantasy  with  pedantry,  so  dear  to  the  closing 
years  of  pagan  scholarship,  when  the  old  straw  was 
thrashed,  re-tied  in  queer-shaped  bundles,  and  then 
thrashed  again.  The  process  produced  pabulum  for 
coming  generations.1 

The  De  Nuptiis  Philologiae  shows  its  author  to  have 
been  a  desiccated  person,  one  who  in  his  leisure  might 
have  enjoyed  the  romances  of  Achilles  Tatius.  We 
have  a  more  living  phenomenon  in  the  personality  of 
Anicius  Boethius,  who  summarized  pagan  logic  and 
ethics  for  the  Middle  Ages,  as  Capella  summarized 
other  sides  of  pagan  culture.  In  somewhat  adaptive 
mode  Boethius  translated  Aristotle's  Categories,  with 
more  elaboration,  he  translated  and  commented  upon 
the  philosopher's  irepl  kpix-qvuas,  De  interpretatione. 
He  composed  two  versions  of  the  latter  work,  one  for 

1  St.  Isidor  of  Seville,  who  wrote  in  the  latter  part  of  the  sixth 
century,  was  an  important  personage  of  the  transition,  handing 
down  not  only  Christian  doctrine,  but  pagan  learning  also.  In  his 
Etymologies  (Etymologiarum  libri  XX)  he  includes  the  whole 
range  of  knowledge  constituting  early  mediaeval  culture.  The  first 
book  is  entitled  "  De  Grammatica  "  ;  the  second,  "  De  Rhetorica  et 
Dialectica  ' ' ;  the  third , "  De  quatuor  disciplinis  mathematicis,  arith- 
metica,  geometria,  musica,  astronomia  " ;  the  fourth,  "De  medi- 
cina  "  ;  the  fifth,  "  De  legibus  et  temporibus."  The  dryness  of  this 
work  and  its  poverty  of  thought  are  outdone  only  by  the  absurdity 
of  its  etymologies.  Another  work,  kin  in  its  saplessness,  is  the 
Mythologiarum  libri  of  Fulgentius  (480-550  a. d.),  for  which  see 
Teuffel-Schwabe,  op.  cit.,  II,  §  480;  Ebert,  op.  cit.,  I,  476-480; 
also  cf.  Comparetti,  op.  cit.,  Chap.  VIII. 


52  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

beginners,  the  other  for  advanced  students.  He  trans- 
lated and  commented  on  Porphyry's  'Eio-aywy^  or 
Introduction  to  the  Categories  of  Aristotle.  This 
work  is  likewise  executed  in  two  editions,  one  com- 
prising two  dialogues,  the  other,  five  books  of  greater 
length.  These  works  are  the  foundation  of  mediaeval 
logic,  and  lie  at  the  basis  of  mediaeval  scholastic  dis- 
putations as  to  realism  and  nominalism.1  They  were 
scholastic  interpretations  of  another's  thought.  The 
writer  was  himself  interested  in  the  question  of  the 
real  existence  of  universals.  His  methods  of  exposi- 
tion even  in  his  more  constructive  works  point  to  the 
methods  of  scholasticism,  as  may  be  observed  by  glanc- 
ing through  his  treatises  on  arithmetic  and  music.2 
His  influence  was  very  weighty  in  establishing  the 
trivium  and  quadrivium. 

So  far  the  writings  of  Boethius  appear  merely 
learned  and  impersonal.  It  is  otherwise  with  his  De 
Consolatione  Philosophiae.  This  final  work  of  pagan 
eclecticism  discloses  an  extraordinary  situation.  The 
author,  a  man  of  noble  birth,  apparently  lofty  char- 
acter, wide  learning,  and  enlightened  thought,  occupy- 
ing a  preeminent  official  position,  is  in  prison  under 
condemnation  of  death  on  a  charge  of  treasonable 
conduct.  And  the  monarch  who  has  permitted  or 
commanded  this,  and  will  permit  or  command  the 
execution  of  this  noble  philosopher,  is  the  most  just 
and  enlightened  ruler  as  yet  arisen  from  the  Teutonic 

1  Cf.  Haureau,  Hist,  de  la  philosophie  scholastique,  Vol.  I,  Chap. 
IV  and  VI.  They  were  superseded  by  the  complete  translations  of 
Aristotle's  works  in  the  twelfth  and  thirteenth  century. 

2  Migne,  Patr.  Lat.,  Vol.  63.  Cf .  Maurice,  Mediaeval  Philosophy ', 
pp.  4-14. 


iv]  THE  TRANSMISSION  OF  LETTERS  53 

races,  a  king  indeed,  the  Ostrogoth  Theodoric.  This 
king  is  great  in  reality,  and  is  to  have  in  minstrel 
story  a  fabled  name  *  and  fame  equal  to  the  philos- 
opher's repute  of  him  who  was  once  his  trusted 
friend,  but  is  now  his  condemned  prisoner. 

The  wherefore  of  all  this  may  never  be  known. 
We  do  not  know  what  may  have  led  Boethius  to  con- 
template or  feebly  attempt  the  impracticable.  It  is 
not  certain  that  he  was  connected  with  any  scheme 
prejudicial  to  the  king.2  That  open-minded  monarch 
was  sometimes  a  barbarian.  He  was  an  old  man  now, 
and  perhaps  had  become  suspicious.  Probably  the  doc- 
trinaire philosopher  had  laid  himself  open  to  suspi- 
cion. With  less  real  cause,  though  perhaps  with  more 
irritating  provocation,  Vespasian  put  to  death  Hel- 
vidius.  The  deaths  of  Boethius  and  Symmachus, 
his  noble  father-in-law,  blot  Theodorie's  fame;  but 
for  the  philosopher,  the  evil  condemnation  was  to  be 
posthumous  good.  It  led  him  to  compose  a  book 
which  was  to  be  read  and  prized  by  great  and  noble 
men. 

No  pagan-minded  scholar  whose  manhood  saw  the 
year  five  hundred  could  be  other  than  a  transmitter 
of  the  greater  past.  Not  only  would  his  thoughts 
have  come  to  him  from  the  past,  his  character  also 
would  be  moulded  by  his  mighty  heritage.  So  it  was 
with  Boethius.  The  contents  of  his  mind  came  from 
the  past,  which   also   largely   made  his   personality. 

1  Dietrich  of  Berne  (Verona). 

2  Boethius,  De  Con.  Phil.,  I,  prosa  4,  says  that  he  was  accused 
of  hindering  an  informer  from  producing  evidence  to  prove  the 
Senate  guilty  of  treason.  Hodgkin,  Italy  and  her  Invaders,  Vol. 
Ill,  Bk.  IV,  Chap.  12,  discusses  the  whole  matter. 


54  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

He  himself,  the  man  Boethius,  was  mostly  the  product 
of  antecedent  pagan  thought.  But  he  was  also  a  man 
of  rhetorically  ardent  feeling  and  literary  gifts ;  and 
when  in  final  sorrow  he  sought  the  solace  of  his  life- 
long studies,  his  thoughts  and  character  fused  them- 
selves into  a  veritable  literary  creation.  In  the  manner 
of  that  decadent  time,  the  work  summarized  much 
ethical  pagan  thought,  and  presented  it  with  surface 
consistency.  But  the  book  was  more  than  a  summary. 
Having  a  unity  of  feeling  inspired  by  the  situation,  it 
offers  its  contents  and  its  writer  in  a  most  appealing 
way,  and  speaks  to  the  reader  as  the  author's  self. 

The  Consolation  of  Philosophy  is  not  a  Christian 
work.1  But  its  author  undoubtedly  conformed  to 
Christian  worship,  and  was  not  unlearned  in  Christian 
teachings.2  He  presents  Pagan  ethics  from  the  stand- 
point of  one  impressed  by  the  problems  which  Chris- 
tianity had  made  prominent,  for  instance,  that  of  the 
compatibility  of  human  free  will  and  God's  foreknowl- 
edge. 

The  allegorical  opening  —  Philosophy  appearing  in 
a  garb  adorned  with  symbols  —  suited  the  taste  of  the 
time  and  of  the  Middle  Ages.  The  romantic  pathos 
of  the  author's  situation  proved  most  appealing  to  all 
men  touched  by  life's  vicissitudes  ; 3  and  this  prison- 
writing  is  optimistic  in  its  teaching,  seeing  only  good 

1  See  Das  System  des  Boethius,  by  Nitzsch,  pp.  42-92 ;  also  the 
work  itself. 

2  He  probably  was  the  author  of  the  Christian  TJieological  Tracts 
attributed  to  him.  See  Hildebrand,  Boethius  und  seine  Stellung 
zum  Christenthum ;  also  Boethius,  an  Essay,  by  H.  F.  Stewart. 

8  As,  e.g.,  Alfred  the  Great,  one  of  the  many  translators  of  the 
work. 


iv]  THE  TRANSMISSION  OF  LETTERS  55 

in  ill :  so  it  might  be  an  encouragement  to  all  unfor- 
tunates. 

In  easy,  attractive  modes  of  statement,  the  Conso- 
lation of  Philosophy  sets  forth  ordinary,  universally 
valid  thoughts  upon  the  uncertainty  of  fortune  and  the 
emptiness  of  its  favors.  Any  man  can  think  in  its 
words.  Moreover,  there  was  in  it  much  that  Christians 
could  interpret  in  a  Christian  way.  For  example,  the 
amor  of  which  the  author  speaks  is  not  in  reality 
Christian  love,  but  the  great  concordant  energy  of  the 
universe  inspired  by  the  Creator,  making  for  harmony 
and  perfection.  This  coelo  imperitans  amoi\  this  bond 
of  all  nature's  concords,  is  the  physico-philosophic 
conception  coming  down  from  Empedocles :  — 

O  felix  hominum  genus 
Si  vestros  animos  amor, 
Quo  coelum  regitur,  regat  ! l 

Its  proper  yet  transformed  self  reappears  in  Dante's 

L'amor  che  move  il  sole  e  l'altre  stelle. 

Christian  conceptions  could  be  read  into  it.  In  the 
beautiful  metre  nine  of  Liber  III,  which  was  in  fact  an 
adaptation  of  a  passage  from  Plato's  Timaeus,  the 
Christian  heart  could  find  echo:  — 

te  cernere  Ad  is, 
Principium,  vector,  dux,  semita,  terminus  idem. 

Here  the  Christian  might  see  the  "  I  am  the  way,  the 
truth,  and  the  life."  Again,  with  what  responsive 
feelings  might  Christians  read  of  the  happy  region 
where  the  dominus  regum  holds  the  sceptre,  from 
i  Con.  Phil,  Lib.  II,  metre  8. 


56  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

which  tyrants  are  exiles  —  haec  patria  est  mihi ! l 
And,  finally,  the  writer  argues  that  blessedness  and 
God  are  the  summum  bonum  and  are  one  and  the  same  ; 
man  gets  blessedness  by  gaining  divinitas.  A  Chris- 
tian heart  might  feel  in  this  the  emotion  of  the  open- 
ing of  Augustine's  Confessions :  "  Thou  hast  made  us 
towards  thee,  and  unquiet  are  our  hearts  till  they  find 
rest  in  thee.7' 

All  of  these  reasons  conduced  to  give  the  Consola- 
tion its  great  future.  It  presented  the  spirit  of  pagan 
ethics  to  the  Middle  Ages  :  and  its  office  may  be  com- 
pared with  that  of  the  Imitatio  Christi.  That  work 
also,  in  more  beautiful  and  simple  language,  was  a  com- 
pendium, and  likewise  had  its  unity,  its  selfhood,  in 
the  author's  intense  feeling,  which  fused  the  thoughts 
and  emotions  of  the  saintly  past  into  a  devotional 
outpour  of  one  Christian  soul. 

II.    Transmission  of  the  Roman  Law 

The  passage  of  the  Roman  law  over  into  the  Mid- 
dle Ages,  the  modifications  and  corruptions  suffered 
by  it,  and  the  manner  of  its  appropriation  by  the  Cel- 
tic and  Germanic  peoples,  present  analogies  with  the 
fortunes  of  other  elements  of  classic  culture.  These 
races  came  in  touch  with  Roman  law  when  the  great 
periods  of  its  development  were  past.   In  the  provinces 

1  Lib.  TV,  metre  1.  Lib.  Ill,  metre  12,  sings  the  lyric  tale  of 
Orpheus  and  Eurydice,  to  teach  that  he  who  once  sees  the  bright 
fount  (fontem  lucidum)  and  looks  back,  is  lost,  —  a  pagan  story, 
but  having  its  analogy  with  him  who,  putting  his  hand  to  the  plough 
and  looking  back,  is  not  fit  for  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 


iv]  TRANSMISSION  OF  THE  ROMAN  LAW  57 

it  was  adapting  itself  to  the  needs  of  imperfectly 
Komanized  provincials ;  at  the  centres  of  Eoman  gov- 
ernment and  affairs  it  was  entering  upon  a  stage  of 
codification.  The  changes  which  the  law  was  under- 
going in  Spain  and  Gaul  were  corruptions,  in  that 
they  represented  the  adaptation  of  a  developed  and 
intellectual  system  to  the  demands  of  peoples  whose 
mental  vision  was  not  broadened  to  the  range  of 
metropolitan  life.  Yet  they  were  also  links  in  the 
chain  of  eventual  progress ;  for  they  represented  the 
process  of  appropriation  of  the  Roman  law  by  races 
who  were  to  develop  these  modified  legal  rules  as 
their  own  law.  The  result  might  be,  as  in  the  south 
of  France,  a  Romanesque  law  presenting  in  its  growth 
an  analogy  to  the  development  of  the  Romance  tongues 
and  literatures  out  of  the  Vulgar  Latin  speech. 

The  people  of  the  provinces  had  some  acquaintance 
with  this  provincialized  law;  but  only  lawyers  or 
officials  were  likely  to  have  the  larger  knowledge  of 
the  Roman  law  as  it  then  existed  in  imperial  codifica- 
tions and  collections.  For  the  emperors  were  group- 
ing their  edicts  into  codes  and  were  endeavoring  to 
preserve  and  protect  with  their  authority  the  legal 
attainment  of  the  past.  The  legislation  of  Theodosius 
and  Justinian  did  not  arrest  the  development  of  Roman 
law ;  rather  it  preserved  the  law  in  a  form  suited  to 
the  understanding  of  the  fourth,  fifth,  and  sixth  centu- 
ries. It  cannot  even  be  said  that  Valentinian's  famous 
"  Law  of   Citations "  *  or  Justinian's  prohibition  of 

1  Theod.  Cod.,  I,  IV,  426  a.d.  See  Muirhead,  Hist.  Introd.  to  the 
Laio  of  Rome,  §  78,  for  a  translation  of  this  enactment,  which  ac- 
corded equal  authority  to  the  writings  of  Papinian,  Paulus,  Gaius, 


58  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

interpretation J  had  the  effect  of  checking  the  develop- 
ment of  the  law.  The  first  was  a  declaration  that  the 
legal  principles  and  rules  evolved  by  the  past  should 
be  accepted  without  question ;  it  tended  to  prevent 
their  loss  or  corruption.  It  was  anticipatory  of  the 
general  attitude  of  deference  of  the  mediaeval  cen- 
turies toward  what  had  come  down  from  antiquity. 
The  men  who  labored  at  the  command  of  Theodosius 
or  Justinian  could  not  add  to  the  legal  science  of 
Paulus  and  Papinian  any  more  than  Capella  could  add 
to  the  contents  of  the  seven  liberal  arts,  of  which  his 
De  Nuptiis  Philologiae  et  Mercurii  afforded  a  compen- 
dium. Codes  did  not  impede  the  development  of  a 
law  which  the  men  of  the  time  had  not  the  faculty  to 
advance  ;  rather  they  tended  to  preserve  the  law  from 
corruption  and  oblivion.2     The  Theodosian  code  and 

Ulpian,  and  Modestinus,  and  provided  that  in  case  of  divergent 
dicta  the  party  having  the  greater  number  on  his  side  should  pre- 
vail, save  where  the  authorities  were  equally  divided,  and  then  he 
having  Papinian  on  his  side  should  prevail. 

1  L.  12  Cod.  de  leg.,  I,  14.  See  Windscheid,  Pandektenrecht, 
Bd.  I,  §  25. 

2  The  principal  collections  or  codifications  of  Roman  law  within 
the  Roman  Empire  were :  The  Codes  of  Gregorianus  and  Hermoge- 
nianus,  made  at  the  end  of  the  third  century;  these  were  collec- 
tions of  imperial  rescripts  and  were  the  work  of  private  persons, 
but  they  received  statutory  recognition  from  Theodosius  and  Valen- 
tinian.  The  Codex  Theodosianus  and  the  novellae  constitutions s, 
published  subsequently  by  Theodosius  and  by  his  successors.  This 
emperor's  plan  was  to  enact  a  single  comprehensive  code  drawn 
from  writings  of  the  jurists,  from  the  Gregorian  and  Hermogenian 
collections  of  rescripts,  and  from  the  edicts  of  prior  emperors.  The 
Codex  was  first  published  at  Constantinople  in  the  year  438,  and  the 
next  year  went  into  force  in  the  West.  Legislation  of  Justinian : 
The  Codex  (529  a.d.),  a  collection  of  statutes,  intended  to  be  the 
sole  repertory  of  statutory  law ;  the  Digesta  or  Pandectae  (533  a.d.)  , 


iv]  TRANSMISSION  OF  THE  ROMAN  LAW  59 

other  legislation  before  Justinian  formed  the  chief 
sources  of  the  codes  of  Roman  law  enacted  by  barba- 
rian kings.1 

The  old  Germanic  principle,  that  a  people  carries 
its  own  law  with  it,  was  a  principle  natural  to  peoples 
potentially  or  actually  migratory,  for  whom  blood, 
rather  than  territory,  constituted  the  test  of  racehood 
and  tribal  unity.      The  ready  recognition  by  the  Ger- 

an  authoritative  compilation  of  jurisprudential  law  in  fifty  books, 
drawn  from  the  writings  of  jurists  whose  authority  had  been  recog- 
nized by  Justinian's  imperial  predecessors  ;  the  Institutes  (533  a.d.), 
based  on  the  Institutes  of  Gaius,  a  well-known  school  text-book ; 
the  Novels,  the  novellae  constitutiones  post  codicemy  published  from 
time  to  time  during  Justinian's  reign. 

1  These  comprised  the  following:  Edictum  Theodorici,  promul- 
gated by  the  great  king  of  the  Ostrogoths.  It  constituted  a  code  of 
law  for  both  Goths  and  Romans  —  Barbari  Romanique.  Its  sources 
were  not  Gothic  law,  but  Roman  law,  statutory  (leges)  and  juris- 
prudential (jus)  I  to  wit,  the  Code  and  Novels  of  Theodosius,  the 
Codes  of  Gregorianus  and  Hermogenianus,  the  writings  of  Paulus 
and  Ulpian.  The  incapacity  of  its  authors  to  enunciate  clearly  prin- 
ciples of  law  appears  in  the  unskilful  use  they  made  of  their  sources. 
Lex  Romano,  Visigathorum,  or  Breviarium  Alaricianum,  com- 
monly called  the  Breviarium,  compiled  at  the  command  of  Alaric  II, 
king  of  the  Visigoths,  shortly  before  the  year  507,  when  the  Visi- 
goths were  driven  from  the  northern  parts  of  their  dominion  by  the 
Franks.  The  compilers  selected  their  material,  leges  and  jus, 
without  altering  the  text  save  by  omissions,  and  in  some  instances 
by  qualifying  or  limiting  it  by  their  accompanying  interpretatio. 
The  sources  were  practically  the  same  as  those  of  Theodoric's  Edict. 
This  Code,  which  regulated  the  rights  of  Roman  subjects  of  the 
Visigothic  king,  became  the  most  widely  used  source  of  Roman  law 
in  the  west  of  Europe.  Lex  Romana  Burgundionum  (cir.  510  a.d.)  , 
called  "  Papianus,"  an  edict  for  the  Roman  subjects  in  the  kingdom 
of  the  Burgundians.  Its  sources  of  Roman  law  were  substantially 
the  same  as  those  of  the  Breviarium.  It  was  not  free  from  the  in- 
fluence of  the  popular  provincial  Roman  law,  and  contains  traces  of 
the  influence  of  the  Burgundian  code  for  Burgundians. 


60  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

manic  kingdoms  of  the  Eoman  law  as  valid  for  their 
new  subjects  was  incidental  to  what  they  esteemed  of 
far  greater  importance,  the  preservation  of  their  own 
Germanic  law  for  themselves.  As  in  the  Visigothic 
and  Burgundian  kingdoms,  so  in  the  kingdom  of  the 
Franks  the  Eoman  provincials  retained  their  own  pri- 
vate law.  But  the  Franks  found  the  Breviarium  of 
Alaric  in  force  and  had  no  need  to  issue  another  code 
for  Eoman  provincials.  So,  at  a  later  period,  the  Lom- 
bards did  not  need  to  issue  a  code  for  their  Eoman 
subjects  in  Italy  where  they  found  the  Justinian  legis- 
lation in  force. 

Before  the  fifth,  century,  the  Eoman  law  as  applied 
among  provincials,  in  Gaul  for  example,  had  to  some 
extent  recognized  local  custom.  It  is  also  to  be  borne 
in  mind  how  pronounced,  not  to  say  dominant,  the 
Germanic  element  in  the  Eoman  army  and  government 
became  in  this,  the  last  century  of  the  Western  Em- 
pire. In  the  next  century  Germanic  ideas  and  in- 
stitutions obviously  affected  the  law  of  the  Eoman 
population  of  Burgundy,  France,  and  Lombardy.  For 
example,  in  the  Visigothic  Breviarium,  the  interpreta- 
tiones  accompanying  the  selected  texts  show  traces  of 
Germanic  influence. 

Conversely,  the  Eoman  law  affected  the  codes  formu- 
lated under  the  direction  of  Germanic  kings  for  their 
own  peoples,  and  some  effect  of  Eoman  culture  may 
also  be  observed.  In  the  first  place,  it  was  the  exam- 
ple of  the  Eomans  that  led  to  the  formulation  of  these 
barbarian  codes  as  codes.  The  attempt  to  state  and  to 
group  laws  together  in  a  written  code  marks  a  stage  in 
the  history  of  barbaric  law.      Secondly,  the  Germanic 


iv]  TRANSMISSION  OF  THE  ROMAN  LAW  61 

codes  were  written  in  Latin,  which  could  not  fail  to 
affect  their  substance. 

Besides  these  marks  of  Eoman  influence,  even  the 
Lex  Salica,  the  earliest  and  purest  of  the  Germanic 
codes,  shows  some  slight  traces  of  Roman  law.1  The 
same  is  true  of  the  Lex  Ribuaria,  which  was  in  large 
part  a  working-over  of  the  Lex  Salica,  In  the  Lex 
Burgundionum  of  Gondobada,  the  king  of  the  Burgun- 
dians,  and  in  the  Visigothic  codes,  the  influence  of  Ro- 
man provincial  law  is  still  more  obvious.  In  revisions 
of  the  Visigothic  codes  references  to  eloquence  and 
philosophy  show  the  effect  of  Roman  culture,  and  the 
participation  of  the  Roman  clergy  in  their  composition 
is  also  apparent.  The  Lombards  appear  to  have  kept 
their  early  codes  the  freest  from  Roman  legal  notions.2 

There  was  still  another  great  current  by  which  Ro- 
man law  was  transmitted  to  the  Middle  Ages.  After 
the  establishment  of  Germanic  kingdoms  the  clergy 
continued  to  live  under  Roman  law  as  their  personal 
law,3  in  France  using  mainly  the  Breviarium,  and  in 
Italy  portions  of  the  legislation  of  Justinian.  The 
principle  that  the  clergy  should  be  judged  by  a  per- 
sonal law  of  their  own  endured  long  after  the  law  of 
the  person  as  applied  to  other  men  had  made  way  for 
the  principle  of  the  law  of  the  land.  This  law  of  the 
person  for  the  clergy  became  the  Canon  law. 

1  The  first  redaction  of  the  Salic  law  was  made  in  the  reign  of 
Clovis,  before  his  conversion  (496  a.d.). 

2  These  are  the  Codes  of  Rothari  (643  a.d.)  and  of  Luitprand 
(713  a.d.).  See  Savigny,  Gesch.,  I,  pp.  123,  124.  129;  II,  p.  219; 
Brunner,  Deutsche  Rges..  Bd.  I,  §  53.  Cf.  Hodgkin,  Italy  and  her 
Invaders,  Vol.  VI,  Bk.  VII,  Chaps.  5  and  10. 

3  Ecclesia  vivit  lege  Romana,  Lex  Bibuaria,  58. 


62  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

The  Western  Church  had  grown,  lived,  and  expanded 
in  Roman  or  Romanized  lands  and  under  the  rules  of 
Roman  law.  Naturally,  when  the  administration  of 
its  affairs,  temporal  and  spiritual,  had  been  fully  ac- 
corded to  it  under  the  Christian  emperors,  it  drew 
upon  the  Roman  law  for  the  rules  under  which  its 
members  should  live  and  its  property  and  their  prop- 
erty be  governed.  Though  the  Church  may  never  have 
formally  admitted  that  the  Roman  law  formed  part  of 
its  law  (i.e.  of  the  Canon  law),  such  always  has  been 
the  fact,  a  fact,  however,  which  has  undergone  modifi- 
cations according  to  the  varying  political  and  ecclesi- 
astical conditions  of  the  different  centuries  of  the 
Church's  existence.  For  example,  the  Constitutions 
of  the  Roman  emperors  from  Constantine's  time,  so 
far  as  they  affected  the  Church,  formed  an  integral 
part  of  its  law  down  to  the  destruction  of  the  Western 
Roman  Empire.  In  other  periods  the  Church  drew 
from  such  sources  of  Roman  law  as  were  in  use  at  the 
time.1  It  may  be  remembered  that  Gratianus,  whose 
work  for  the  Canon  law  was  epoch-making,  as  the  work 
of  the  Bologna  school  was  for  the  Roman,  lived  in  the 
twelfth  century  while  the  Bologna  school  was  flourish- 
ing, and  was  himself  a  monk  at  the  convent  of  St. 
Felix  in  Bologna.  Jealousy  of  Roman  law  —  of  the 
law  that  regarded  emperors  rather  than  popes  as  om- 

1  See  Conrat  (Cohn),  op.  cit.,  pp.  5-30,  for  references  by  the 
clergy  to  the  Roman  law,  or  passages  showing  a  knowledge  of 
it,  from  the  sixth  to  the  eleventh  century,  as,  e.g.,  in  the  letters 
of  Gregory  I  (590-604).  Also,  for  compilations  of  Roman  law 
for  ecclesiastical  use  in  Italy  (Lex  Romana  canonice  compta, 
etc.),  see  Conrat,  op.  cit.,  pp.  205-218,  and  in  France,  ib.t  pp.  252 
et  seq. 


iv]  TRANSMISSION   OF  THE  ROMAN  LAW  63 

nipotent  —  first  awoke  during  the  struggle  between  the 
Empire  and  the  Papacy. 

Rules  drawn  from  a  system  of  law  developed  un- 
der paganism  were  not  likely  to  remain  unmodified 
when  applied  by  the  Church.  But  the  effect  of  Chris- 
tianity on  the  development  of  Eoinan  law  does  not 
become  apparent  before  Constantine.  From  his  time 
enactments  begin  in  favor  of  the  Church  and  its  prop- 
erty and  its  privileges  as  legatee,  as  well  as  enactments 
conferring  the  supervision  of  charities  upon  the  bishops 
and  a  power  of  interference  in  guardianships,  and  others 
recognizing  the  validity  of  acts  done  in  the  presence  of 
priests,  and  imposing  certain  disabilities  upon  heretics. 
Of  still  greater  importance  was  the  institution  of  the 
bishop's  court,1  the  penalties  imposed  upon  divorce, 
and  the  repeal  of  the  lex  Papia  Poppaeaque  discour- 
aging celibacy. 

These  enactments  show  the  opposition  between  the 
Christian  ideal  and  the  Eoman.  The  bishop's  court 
was  the  realization  of  the  desire  of  the  early  Church 
to  rule  itself  and  its  members  and  to  keep  free  from 
secular  trammels ;  pagan  Eome  had  known  nothing 
analogous.  In  the  restrictions  on  divorce,  the  Chris- 
tian ideal  of  the  sanctity  of  marriage  struggles  to 
assert  itself.  The  provisions  of  the  Eoman  law  en- 
couraging fruitful  marriages  and  imposing  penalties  on 
celibacy  fell  prostrate  before  monasticism,  which  was 
coming  to  be  recognized  as  the  perfect  Christian  life. 
The  emperors,  with  a  view  to  civic  order,  endeavored 
to  control  the  conduct  of  the  hordes  of  monks.2     But 

1  E.g.,  Xovellae  Valentinian  III.  Tit.  XXXV. 

2  See,  e.g.,  Cod.  Theod.,  Lib.  XVI,  Tit.  III. 


64 


THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE 


[chap. 


never  did  a  Christian  emperor  enact  a  law  contravening 
the  universal  recognition  of  the  Christian  Church  that 
the  virgin  state  was  the  state  of  preeminent  Christian 
merit  and  holiness.  These  novel  Christian  views  em- 
bodied in  imperial  edicts  did  not  touch  the  principles 
of  the  Roman  law ;  its  mode  of  reasoning,  its  legal 
conceptions,  and  the  general  rules  of  contract  law 
were  not  affected. 

As  has  been  seen,  the  pre-Justinian  codes  with  bits 
of  the  old  jurisprudential  law  were  the  sources  of  the 
barbarian  codes  of  Roman  law  current  to  the  north 
and  west  of  Italy.  In  Italy,  however,  the  Roman  law 
as  applied  was  drawn  from  the  legislation  of  Justin- 
ian, and  indeed  from  his  legislation  proper  —  Codex, 
Novels,  Institutes  —  rather  than  from  his  compilation 
of  jurisprudential  law,  the  Digest.  Some  knowledge 
of  Roman  law  always  existed  in  Italy  and  other  parts 
of  Western  Europe ;  and  to  some  extent  Roman  law 
continued  to  be  applied  in  the  courts  of  the  Romance 
countries.  But  from  the  seventh  to  the  end  of  the 
eleventh  century  the  Roman  law  as  a  whole  was  not 
known  and  understood  in  a  scientific  and  intelligent 
manner.  During  this  period  there  appear  to  have  been 
no  schools  of  law,  properly  speaking,  nor  any  original 
writing  upon  jurisprudence.1 


iThis  is  substantially  the  view  of  Savigny,  Gesch.,  I,  Cap.  VI, 
and  Bd.  Ill,  p.  83,  and  of  Flacb,  Etudes  Critiques,  etc.  See,  also, 
Conrat,  op.  cit.,  pp.  96  et  seq. ;  Muirhead,  op.  cit.,  §  90;  S.  Amos, 
Civil  Law  of  Borne,  p.  414,  etc.  It  is  opposed  by  Fitting,  who 
maintains  that  Roman  law  was  taught  at  all  times  in  the  Middle 
Ages  in  schools  of  law,  mostly  connected  with  the  Church ;  that  it 
was  also  taught  in  connection  with  the  Trivium  ;  that  at  all  periods 
there  was  a  juristic  literature,  and  law  was  treated  scientifically. 


iv]  TRANSMISSION  OF  THE  ROMAN  LAW  65 

The  decadent  or  barbaric  use  of  a  highly  developed 
system  of  law  seems  to  be  marked  by  the  composition 
and  use  of  epitomes  and  compilations  of  extracts. 
This  is  analogous  to  the  way  in  which  decadent  and 
barbaric  periods  adapt  to  their  use  the  culture  of 
the  past.  The  Theodosian  code  and  the  legislation 
of  Justinian  compiled  and  codified  the  existing  law, 
which  the  fifth  and  sixth  centuries  found  difficulty 
in  understanding  and  applying.1  It  is  noteworthy 
how  these  compilations  were  used  by  the  barbari- 
ans and  in  the  succeeding  semi-barbarous  centuries. 
The  Breviarium  of  Alaric  II  was  practically  an  epit- 
ome or  compilation  of  excerpts  from  the  Theodosian 
code.  But  the  Breviarium  wras  itself  the  code  which 
maintained  its  preeminence  as  the  vehicle  of  Roman 
law  in  France  and  elsewhere.  It  likewise  was  abridged 
and  was  used  in  epitomes  more  than  in  its  original  form.2 
The  legislation  of  Justinian  was  also  chiefly  used,  from 
the  seventh  to  the  eleventh  centuries,  through  epitomes 
and  compilations  of  extracts.  In  France,  where  it 
was  never  promulgated,  and  where  it  therefore  re- 
mained foreign  law,  it  was  well-nigh  exclusively  known 
and  used  in  these  abbreviated  forms,  and  even  in  Italy 
the  use  of  such  works  was  more  general  than  the  use 
of  the  original  texts.3 

1  Of  course,  this  is  the  usual  function  of  codification.  The  spirit 
and  ability  with  which  the  particular  codification  is  accomplished 
determines  whether  it  is  to  be  regarded  as  a  work  of  decadence 
from  the  standard  of  previous  legal  attainment.  A  code  may  in 
itself  be  an  advance. 

2  See  for  these  epitomes,  Conrat  (Cohn),  op.  cit.,  pp.  222-240. 

8  Among  these  compilations  and  epitomes,  the  Summa  Pentsina, 
the  Brachylogus,  and  the  Petri  exceptiones  legum  Romanorum  may 
be  mentioned  as  in  use  in  both  France  and  Italy. 
p 


66  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

The  fresh  and  springing  life  of  the  Lombard  cities 
at  the  beginning  of  the  twelfth  century  stimulated 
the  more  thorough  and  scientific  study  of  Roman  law 
which  a  better  stage  of  intelligence  rendered  possible, 
and  which,  in  fact,  had  begun  at  Bologna  under 
Irnerius  and  others  of  the  Bologna  school.  There 
resulted  a  practical  re-discovery  and  revival  of  Jus- 
tinian's Digest,  that  great  collection  of  jurispruden- 
tial law  which  had  been  beyond  the  needs  and  the 
comprehension  of  the  preceding  centuries.  And  it 
was  from  Bologna  that  currents  of  the  new  and  larger 
knowledge  of  Roman  law  went  forth  through  France, 
England,  and  Germany. 

In  France  in  the  course  of  the  ninth,  tenth,  and 
eleventh  centuries  the  old  Germanic  principle  of  the 
personality  of  the  law,  that  is,  of  law  as  applicable 
to  persons  according  to  their  race,  had  given  way  to 
the  principle  of  territoriality,  that  is,  of  law  as  valid 
within  a  certain  country.  The  application  of  the 
principle  of  personality  had  become  impracticable ;  it 
would  have  been  necessary  to  determine  the  race  of 
the  defendant,  and  then  to  know  the  text  of  the  lex 
or  capitulary  applying  to  him  and  to  the  case.  But 
the  races  were  mingling,  and  an  increasing  illiteracy 
made  it  difficult  to  understand  the  written  law.  The 
principle  of  personality  had  to  be  abandoned,  and 
often  the  text  of  the  lex  was  ignored.  In  each  prov- 
ince a  customary  law  applying  to  all  inhabitants  was 
forming,  its  rules  being  usually  drawn  from  the  older 
lex  applicable  to  the  race  there  dominant ;  but  that 
older  lex  was  no  longer  actually  applied.  The  full 
change  therefore  was  from  lex  applied  according  to 


iv]  TRANSMISSION   OF  THE  ROMAN   LAW  67 

the  racehood  of  the  parties,  to  customary  law  valid 
for  all  within  a  certain  territory.  In  the  eleventh 
century  the  last  traces  of  the  former  system  disap- 
peared. The  renewal  of  the  study  of  the  Roman  law 
in  the  twelfth  century  was  fruitful  of  results  through 
France.  That  law  could  now  serve  as  a  model  for 
jurists.  In  some  provinces  it  was  accepted  as  actual 
law,  written  and  authoritative.  Accordingly,  in  the 
south  of  France,  where  the  people  lived  under  a  cus- 
tomary law  derived  from  Roman  law,  the  Roman  law 
proper  now  regained  validity.  In  the  middle  and 
north  of  France,  where  there  was  less  Roman  law  in 
the  customary  law,  Roman  law  was  not  accepted  in 
bulk  or  as  authoritative  in  itself;  but  it  influenced 
the  customary  law.  Thus  a  line  was  drawn  between 
the  pays  de  coutumes  and  the  pays  de  droit  ecrit, 
and  this  division  endured  from  the  thirteenth  century 
to  the  French  Revolution;  roughly,  it  was  the  same 
line  that  separated  the  pays  de  langue  d'oc  from  the 
pays  de  langue  d'oil. 

The  law  prevailing  in  England  before  the  Norman 
conquest  was  in  the  main  pure  Germanic  law,  which 
came  with  the  English  conquests  of  Britain.  A  dis- 
tinct Scandinavian  strain  entered  with  the  Danish 
invasion ;  and  the  Norman  law  of  William  the  Con- 
queror may  have  included  Scandinavian  elements; 
but  it  brought  a  far  more  important  contribution  of 
Frankish  ideas  and  customs.  Possibly  some  appar- 
ently English  institutions  may  be  related,  through  the 
customs  of  Normandy,  with  some  of  the  institutions 
of  the  last  centuries  of  the  Roman  government.  But 
the  new,  direct,  and  certain  influence  of  Roman  law 


68  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

begins  with  Lanfranc  as  William  the  Conqueror's 
adviser,  and  in  the  twelfth  century  the  full  current 
sets  in  from  Bologna.  Evidently,  this  was  not  a  sur- 
vival of  Roman  or  Romanic  law  in  institutions  and 
customs,  but  a  revival  of  the  Law  of  Justinian. 

In  the  twelfth  century  a  close  relation  existed 
between  Roman  and  Canon  law  in  England,  the 
Canonist  frequently  citing  the  leges.  The  Roman  and 
Canon  laws  entered  England  together.  In  ecclesias- 
tical courts  the  latter  gained  wide  jurisdiction.  But 
the  Roman  law  proper  was  without  a  court  and  was 
chiefly  used  by  the  Canonists  in  the  practice  of  Canon 
law.  Some  knowledge  of  it  appears  to  have  endured. 
The  author  of  the  Tractatus  de  legibns,  attributed  to 
Glanville,  Henry  IPs  Chief  Justiciar,  is  versed  in 
it ;  and  at  least  the  opening  chapters  of  Justinian's 
Institutes  were  well  known  in  the  time  of  Henry  III. 
Bracton's  Note  Book,  written  between  1250  and  1258, 
has  been  styled  "Romanesque  in  form,  English  in 
substance."  He  absorbed  much  from  the  Corpus 
Juris  Civilis,  and  may  represent  the  climax  of  the 
study  of  Roman  law  in  mediaeval  England,  which 
again  appears  to  wane  in  the  reign  of  Edward  I. 
But  all  lawyers  know  the  great  debt  which  the  Eng- 
lish law  in  its  later  development  owes  to  the  juris- 
prudential law  of  Rome,  to  which  in  the  main  it  owes 
its  Equity  Jurisprudence,  its  Law  of  Admiralty,  and 
much  of  its  Law  Merchant. 

In  Germany,  as  in  France,  from  the  close  of  the 
ninth  century  the  personal  law  gives  way  to  the  terri- 
torial. And  in  the  establishment  of  a  territorial  law, 
a  landesrecht  proper,  one  strain  of  Germanic  law  tri- 


iv]  TRANSMISSION  OF  THE  ROMAN   LAW  69 

umphs  over  its  kindred  and  for  the  time  over  Roman 
law  as  well.  This  was  the  Frankish  law,  the  Lex 
Salica  as  supplemented  by  the  Capitularies  of  the 
Frankish  monarchs.1  But  in  Germany  the  Roman  law 
was  to  reassert  itself  with  power,  and  that,  too,  the 
Roman  law  as  known  and  reestablished  in  its  higher 
forms  by  the  labors  of  the  Bologna  school.  A  portion 
of  this  knowledge  may  have  reached  Germany  in  the 
twelfth  century  from  the  law  schools  of  Italy.  But 
the  practical  "  reception "  of  the  Roman  law,  that  is, 
its  application  in  the  courts,  begins  with  the  fifteenth 
century. 

Clearly  the  appropriation  of  Roman  law  in  Ger- 
many, England,  and  France,  under  the  inspiration  of 
Bologna,  was  essentially  different  from  the  survival  of 
Roman  law  in  Italy  and  the  early  Germanic  kingdoms. 
Through  the  sixth  and  immediately  following  centu- 
ries, the  Roman  law,  modified,  barbarized,  dispersed 
in  scattered  influences  upon  Germanic  codes,  belittled 
and  debased  by  unreasoning  abstracts  and  epitomes, 
was  understood  and  applied  as  a  decadent  and  semi- 
barbaric  period  would  naturally  understand  and  apply 
it.  The  centuries  went  on.  The  races  of  Western 
Europe  grew  in  all  the  elements  of  humanity.  They 
became  capable  of  a  better  understanding  of  the 
Roman  law,  while  the   exigencies  of  an  increasing 

1  See  Sohm,  "  Frankisches  Recht  und  Romisches  Recto,"  Zeit- 
schriftfiir  R.  gesch.  Savigny-Stift.,  Bd.  I  (1880),  pp.  1-84.  Or, 
perhaps,  one  should  say  that  it  was  the  Frankish  Lex  Bibuaria; 
recognizing,  however,  that  the  latter  was  derived  from  the  Lex 
Salica.  Brunner,  op.  cit.,  §  33  (Bd.  I,  pp.  257-258)  ;  Schroder,  op.  cit., 
52,  andifc.,  "Die  Franken  und  ihr  Recht,"  Zeit  schriftfiir  R.  gesch. 
Savigny-Stift.,  Bd.  II  (1881),  Germ.  Abtheilung,  pp.  1-82. 


70  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap,  iv 

commerce  demanded  the  application  of  legal  princi- 
ples such  as  only  the  Roman  law  contained.  So  a 
more  thorough  and  intelligent  study  began  in  Bologna 
and  the  cities  of  Lombardy,  which  were  centres  of  the 
new  growth  of  trade  and  had  preserved  the  strongest 
traditions  of  Roman  law.  A  new  stage  in  the  knowl- 
edge of  Roman  law  was  reached,  and  this  higher 
knowledge  crossed  the  Alps  to  France,  England,  and 
Germany.  In  those  countries  there  were  men  fit  to 
receive  the  gift,  and  the  Roman  law  henceforth  was 
appropriated  and  applied  in  the  new  spirit  of  a  larger 
time,  a  spirit  which  in  its  rationality  and  compre- 
hensiveness drew  nearer  to  the  spirit  of  the  classic 
jurists. 


CHAPTER  V 

PAGAN    ELEMENTS    CHRISTIANIZED    IN    THEIR 
TRANSMISSION 

The  Life  and  Deeds  of  Alexander,  the  Trojan  His- 
tory, and  the  Greek  Romances  afford  illustrations  of 
the  manner  in  which  classical  narrative  and  imagi- 
nation sank  to  the  level  of  mediaeval  taste.  The 
works  of  Capella  and  Boethius  show  the  forms  in  which 
classical  culture  and  philosophy  were  rendered  con- 
genial to  the  coming  centuries.  The  barbarized 
abridgments  of  the  Roman  Law  show  how  that  was 
brought  within  the  comprehension  and  adapted  to  the 
circumstances  of  the  transitional  and  early  mediaeval 
periods,  while  the  codification  of  Justinian  remained 
above  the  needs  and  understanding  of  men  until  a 
later  time.  So  far  the  antique  elements  remained 
clearly  pagan.  Quite  as  important  were  those  which 
in  the  medium  of  their  transmission  were  clothed  in 
Christian  phrase,  or  were  more  deeply  altered  in  their 
combination  with  Christian  thought  or  feeling.  Cer- 
tain writings  of  Ambrose  illustrate  the  use  of  stoical 
reasoning  as  a  basis  of  Christian  ethics.  Synesius 
of  Cyrene  is  an  example  of  a  man  in  whose  mental 
composition  pagan  and  Christian  elements  are  mixed 
together  yet  do  not  unite ;  in  his  writings  Neo-plato- 
nism  has  scarcely  donned  Christianity.     Dionysius  the 

71 


72  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

Areopagite  shows  the  more  organic  union  of  Chris- 
tianity and  Neo-platonism. 

I.   Ethics 

Generally  speaking,  excellence  and  right  in  every 
school  of  pagan  ethics  was  a  matter  of  the  rational 
and  strenuous  endeavor  of  the  enlightened  man. 
When  he  acted  wrongly,  he  had  his  passion  or  igno- 
rance to  blame ;  when  he  acted  aright,  he  might  con- 
gratulate himself.  A  pagan  is  neither  tempted  of  the 
devil,  nor  very  definitely  helped  by  God.  Eight  con- 
duct, that  is,  conduct  most  conducive  to  the  actor's 
welfare,  is  whatever  human  experience  and  reason 
have  approved.  Approval  by  the  best  human  reason 
based  on  the  widest  human  knowledge  was  the  standard. 
There  was  no  thought  of  divinely  revealed  righteous- 
ness, nor  any  clear  conception  of  a  God  whose  ways 
with  men  and  whose  commands  set  the  standard  for 
man's  conduct.  God  was  not  the  pattern  of  human 
righteousness  in  Greece  and  Rome,  although  divini- 
ties might  be  conceived  in  accordance  with  ideals 
which  men  could  reach  wherever  mortality  was  not  a 
bar. 

But  the  principles  of  Christian  ethics  trace  their 
descent  from  the  spirit  of  the  Old  Testament,  —  from 
the  great  note  of  the  Pentateuch,  "  And  Abraham  be- 
lieved God,  and  it  was  accounted  unto  him  for  right- 
eousness ; "  from  the  psalmist's  cry,  "  Against  thee  only 
have  I  sinned "  — "  In  thy  sight  shall  no  man  be 
justified;"  from  the  note  of  Proverbs,  "The  fear  of 
Jehovah  is  the  beginning  of  wisdom," — to  love  what 


v]  ETHICS  73 

Jehovah  loves,  to  hate  what  He  hates  and  as  He  loves 
and  hates,  is  righteousness,  is  wisdom,  is  long  life  and 
length  of  days.  In  the  Old  Testament  the  ethical  and 
religious  standard  was  God's  power  and  love;  the 
means  to  righteousness  was  His  aid  and  comfort  given 
to  those  who  seek  His  ways  ;  and  the  unapproachable 
pattern  of  all  human  righteousness  was  God  Himself, 
and  His  ways  with  men. 

"  Good  Master !  TVhy  callest  thou  me  good  ? 
There  is  none  good  but  God  "  —  "  Be  ye  perfect,  even 
as  your  Father  in  heaven  is  perfect "  —  "  Thy  faith 
hath  saved  thee  "  —  "  If  ye  love  me,  ye  will  keep  my 
commandments."  All  these  words  of  Christ  accord 
with  Old  Testament  thought,  develop  it,  fulfil  it. 
And  Christianity  in  progressive  development  of  the 
religious  ethics  of  the  Old  Testament,  was  faith  in 
God,  and  prayer,  and  love  of  Him;  a  turning  always 
unto  Him  for  guidance  and  strength ;  an  utter  hum- 
bling of  self,  a  sense  of  insurmountable  sinfulness, 
of  failure  to  be  like  Christ ;  a  sense  of  righteousness 
never  reached,  but  always  to  be  striven  for  in  the 
love  and  grace  of  God.  This  seeking  unto  righteous- 
ness and  the  love  of  God  through  the  aid  of  un- 
merited Grace,  was  to  be  the  holiest  inspiration  of 
mediaeval  Christianity.  But  it  did  not  come  alto- 
gether nor  at  once  to  Greek  and  Koman  Christians, 
though  all  devoted  followers  of  Christ  were  touched 
by  it.  After  Paul,  hardly  a  man  is  found  completely 
possessed  of  these  principles  and  held  by  them,  until 
Augustine.  That  father  of  mediaeval  Christianity,  in 
his  warfare  with  Pelagianism,  was  combating  a  sur- 
vival in  Christianity  of  the  general  spirit  of  pagan 


74  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

ethics,  self-reliant,  unappreciative  of  the  absolute  need 
of  God. 

The  ethics  of  Ambrose  may  be  contrasted  with 
those  of  Augustine.  The  great  archbishop  was  a 
Christian,  a  father  of  Christian  song  and  chant,  an 
exponent  of  Christian  feeling.  But  the  reasoning  of 
his  De  Officiis  Ministrorum  is  pagan.  In  plan  the 
work  follows  Cicero's  De  Officiis.  Cicero  addressed 
his  work  to  his  son,  and  began  with  remarks  on  the 
propriety  of  writing  for  him  a  treatise  on  duties.  So 
Ambrose  declares  that  he  will  write  to  inform  his 
sons  (the  clergy),  since  grace  as  well  as  nature  impels 
to  love  (I,  24) ;  and  he  justifies  himself  as  a  bishop  in 
speaking  on  the  subject.  He  then  says  (I,  27)  that 
philosophers  thought  that  officia  were  derived  from 
the  good  (honestum)  and  useful  (utile),  and  he  repeats 
Cicero's  statement  of  the  matter  (De  Off.,  I,  iii,  sec.  9 
and  10).  But,  continues  Ambrose  (I,  28),  we  regard 
only  the  good,  and  that  with  respect  to  the  future  life, 
and  we  deem  useful  only  what  helps  thereto.  They 
reckon  (I,  29)  secular  advantages  among  goods  (in 
bonis),  we  hold  them  the  contrary. 

Ambrose  (I,  30)  refers  to  what  Cicero  says  as  to 
the  seemly  (decorum,  De  Off.,  I,  xxvii,  sec.  93) ;  and 
then  follows  him  (I,  36)  in  saying  that  every  officium 
is  either  medium  or  perfectum  (De  Off.,  I,  iii,  sec.  8). 
Nothing  escapes  God's  notice ;  He  rewards  and  pun- 
ishes ;  the  account  is  made  up  in  the  life  to  come ;  in 
the  blessedness  of  that  life  lies  the  sanction  of  right- 
eousness. Ambrose  then  speaks  of  the  duties  to  be 
observed  throughout  life  (I,  65 ;  Cic.  De  Off.,  I, 
xxxiv,  sec.    122);   and   lengthily  inculcates  modesty 


v]  ETHICS  75 

(verecundia)  and  warns  against  anger  (iracundia). 
Through  all  of  this,  Cicero's  treatise  is  in  his  mind 
and  often  quoted. 

Again,  Ambrose  (I,  105,  following  De  Off.,  I,  xxix, 
141)  shows  how  his  mode  of  regarding  virtue  is  some- 
times the  Ciceronian,  i.e.  the  pagan  stoico-eclectic. 
In  acting,  says  Cicero,  and  Ambrose  after  him,  three 
things  are  to  be  considered ;  first,  that  appetitus  should 
obey  reason ;  secondly,  that  we  should  bestow  pains  in 
proportion  to  the  weight  of  the  matter ;  and,  thirdly, 
that  we  should  observe  the  fitness  of  times  and  places. 
Ambrose  agrees  with  Cicero  that  the  first  is  the  most 
important.  These  were  the  principles  of  pagan  ethics. 
Ambrose  might  apply  them  somewhat  differently  from 
Cicero,  and  nevertheless  be  reasoning  in  a  pagan  way. 
A  man  who  regarded  the  future  life  as  all-important 
would  apply  these  principles  differently  from  one  to 
whom  the  present  life  was  the  main  matter.  Ambrose 
continues,  pointing  out  (I,  107-114)  how  Abraham 
and  Jacob  and  Joseph  observed  these  principles ;  and 
then  argues  that  their  conduct  exhibited  the  four  car- 
dinal virtues,  prudentia,  justitia,  fortitudo,  and  tempe- 
rantia.  He  discusses  these  virtues  as  constituent 
parts  of  good  conduct.  Primus  officii  fons  prudentia 
est,  says  Ambrose,  a  phrase  which  hardly  represents  a 
Christian  point  of  view  (I,  126 ;  cf .  De  Off.,  I,  v,  sec. 
15).  The  discussion  of  the  virtue  of  fortitudo,  which 
follows  (I,  175,  et  seq.),  is  stoical  in  tone. 

Likewise  Ambrose  follows  Cicero  closely  in  the  treat- 
ment of  the  seemly,  decorum  (I,  221,  et  seq.,  De  Off.,  I, 
xxvii,  96-98),  even  to  the  point  of  saying,  —  what  is 
sheer  stoicism, —  decorum  est  secundum  naturam  vivere 


76  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

(I,  222)  ;  quod  ita  naturae  consentaneum  sit,  is  Cicero's 
phrase  (De  Off.,  I,  xxvii,  98).  To  be  sure,  in  this 
first  book  of  the  De  Officiis  Ministrorum,  he  occasion- 
ally contradicts  rules  of  pagan  ethics,  for  example,  as 
to  vengeance,  the  permissibility  of  which  he  does  not 
admit  (I,  131;  but  see  139;  cf.  De  Off.,  I,  vii,  23). 

At  the  beginning  of  the  second  book  Ambrose  con- 
siders what  constitutes  blessed  life  (vita  beata).  The 
riches  of  this  world  do  not  bring  this  blessedness,  but 
rather  bar  the  path  —  woe  unto  ye  rich  !  Ceiium  est 
solum  et  summum  bonum  esse  virtutem,  eamque  abundare 
solam  ad  vitae  fructum  beatae:  nee  externis  aut  corporis 
bonis,  sed  virtute  sola  vitam praestari  beatam,  per  quam 
vita  aeterna  acquiritur.  Vita  enim  beata  fructus  prae- 
sentium:  vita  autem  aeterna  spes  futurorum  est  (II,  18). 
Like  the  Stoics,  Ambrose  sees  no  blessedness  in  riches; 
virtue  alone  produces  blessed  life,  through  which  eter- 
nal life  is  reached.  For  Ambrose  the  ultimate  bless- 
edness lies  in  life  eternal,  which  is  the  fruit  of  virtue, 
while  the  Stoics  find  it  rather  in  virtue  itself,  with 
whatever  may  come  therefrom  here  or  hereafter.  He 
adds  :  Scnptura  autem  divina  vitam  aeternam  in  cogni- 
tione  posuit  divinitatis,  et  fructu  bonae  operationis  (II, 
5,  citing  John  xvii.  3,  and  Matt.  xix.  29).  Here  is 
a  Christian  statement  which,  however,  Ambrose  has 
not  found  inconsistent  with  a  stoical  way  of  reasoning. 

Having  spoken  thus  generally  as  to  what  constitutes 
a  blessed  life,  Ambrose  proceeds  to  discuss  the  useful 
(utile),  thus  returning  to  Cicero's  arrangement.  Supe- 
nore  libro  ita  divisionem  fecimus,  at  primo  loco  esset 
honestum  et  decorum,  a  quo  officia  ducerentur,  secundo 
loco  quid  utile   (II,  22;   cf.    Cic.   De   Off   II,  iii,  9). 


v]  ETHICS  77 

Utility  lies  in  gaining  piety,  not  money  (II,  23). 
What  is  useful  is  also  just ;  justum  est  ut  serviamus 
Christo  qui  nos  redemit  (II,  24).  This  is  a  Christian 
turn  of  the  argument,  which  none  the  less  continues 
to  accord  with  the  stoical  view  in  finding  the  utile  to 
be  the  honestum,  and  vice  versa.  Ambrose  now  enters 
upon  a  practical  discussion  of  the  details  of  conduct 
according  to  the  desirable  virtues  of  love,  charity, 
justice,  and  prudence. 

In  the  third  book  it  is  said  that  there  can  be  no 
conflict  between  the  honestum  and  the  utile,  since  noth- 
ing can  be  honestum  (morally  good)  that  is  not  useful, 
and  vice  versa,  wherein  he  follows  Cicero  (III,  9 ;  De 
Off.  Ill,  iii,  11).  And  in  his  concluding  exposition  of 
right  Christian  conduct,  as  in  the  discussion  contained 
in  the  second  book,  Ambrose  is  not  out  of  accord  with 
Cicero  and  the  Stoics,  though  his  rules  of  Christian 
morality  may  go  further  than  any  pagan  ethics  de- 
manded. 

In  fine,  although  some  precepts  of  Ambrose's  trea- 
tise contravene  pagan  ethics,  and  although  his  opinions 
may  be  such  as  Augustine  would  have  approved,  nev- 
ertheless in  tone  and  spirit  the  Be  Officiis  Ministrorum 
is  separated  by  great  gulfs  from  the  Christian  cry, 
with  which  Augustine's  Confessions  open,  a  cry  pro- 
phetic of  the  mediaeval  soul :  Fecisti  nos  ad  te,  et  in- 
quietum  est  cor  nostrum,  donee  requiescat  in  te.  A  man 
might  follow  the  guidance  of  Ambrose's  precepts,  and 
still  be  of  the  company  of  those  not  yet  salubriter  pro- 
stati  et  elisi  a  te,  Deus  meics.1  Utter  humility  before 
God,  man's  helplessness  without  His  grace  and  love, 
i  Con/.,  IV,  1. 


78  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

finds  voice  in  Augustine.  Despite  all  the  antique  ele- 
ments of  his  personality,  which  made  him  still  a 
Roman  man  of  the  transition  epoch,  these  Christian 
sentiments  proclaim  him  the  true  continuer  of  the 
spirit  of  the  Old  Testament  through  Christ,  and  make 
him  the  most  completely  Christian  man  since  the 
Apostolic  time,  and  the  great  father  of  mediaeval 
Christianity. 

II.    Synesius  of  Cyrene 

Synesius,  a  native  of  Cyrene,  an  ancient  but  de- 
cayed Greek  city  of  the  Libyan  Pentapolis,  was  a  live 
Hellenic  personality  of  the  end  of  the  fourth  and 
beginning  of  the  fifth  century.  His  writings  were 
not  to  be  of  great  influence  in  Western  Europe,  but 
they  show  the  mingling  of  Hellenic-pagan  and  Chris- 
tian elements  in  a  man  of  the  transition  epoch.  He 
was  honest,  brave,  lovable.  Before  his  adoption  of 
Christianity  he  was  a  Xeo-platonist,  and  a  devoted 
admirer  of  Hypatia,  the  Xeo-platonist  woman-philoso- 
pher of  Alexandria,  where  Synesius  spent  some  haprjy 
years.  He  loved  study  and  cultured  ease,  as  well  as 
hunting  and  the  agricultural  occupations  of  a  country 
gentleman.  He  hated  public  affairs ;  but  the  misfor- 
tunes of  his  province  forced  military  and  then  epis- 
copal leadership  upon  him,  as  he  was  the  only  man 
brave  enough  to  quell  marauding  Libyans  and  oppose 
tyrannous  officials.  His  countrymen  compelled  him  to 
be  ordained  Bishop  of  Ptolemais ;  and  a  troubled  epis- 
copal career  brought  him  prematurely  to  his  grave. 
Hellenic  Africa  had  its  woes  when  Rome  fell  before 


v]  SYNESIUS   OF  CYRENE  79 

Alaric.  Synesius  was  made  bishop  in  the  year  of 
that  catastrophe  (a.d.  410),  and  died  four  years  after- 
wards. 

When  Synesius  has  something  important  to  com- 
municate, he  can  say  it  bravely  and  directly,  whether 
in  a  speech1  or  in  letters.  Otherwise,  his  letters  show 
the  affectations  of  fourth-century  pagan  epistolary 
literature.  He  can  also  amuse  himself  by  composing 
elaborate  rhetorical  trifles,  like  his  Eulogy  on  Bald- 
ness, in  which  he  sought  to  rival  Dio's  discourse  upon 
Long  Hair.  He  mentions  a  curious  habit  of  his,  when 
reading,  of  closing  the  book,  and  then  devising  an  end- 
ing for  the  work,  in  order  to  compare  his  ending  with 
the  writer's.  Just  as  he  wrote  poems  in  imitation  of 
any  author  that  struck  his  fancy,  so  he  was  utterly 
eclectic  in  his  thinking.  Naturally,  like  all  antiquity, 
Synesius  believed  in  divination  and  dreams.  But  it 
was  characteristic  of  the  academically  superstitious 
age  in  which  he  lived,  that  he  wrote  a  work  on 
Dreams,  and  advised  keeping  a  systematic  record  of 
them,  that  their  significance  and  warnings  might  be 
compared. 

Synesius'  Neo-platonism  shows  Christian  influence. 
For  instance,  the  so-called  2f  eo-platonic  trinity  of  the 
One,  the  Kous  —  perfected  universal  Mind  —  and  the 
Soul,  has  become  in  his  hymns  Father,  Spirit,  Son. 
These  hymns  also  draw  near  to  Christian  feeling. 
Christianity  was  in  the  air,  and  Synesius  breathed 
it.     His  gentle  conversion  suggests  no  spiritual  con- 

1  As  in  his  famous  address  to  Arcadius,  on  the  duties  of  kings, 
when  he  had  been  sent  to  plead  his  city's  cause  before  the  court  at 
Constantinople. 


80  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

flict.  While  still  a  pagan,  he  wrote  a  hymn  referring 
to  the  time  of  his  stay  in  Constantinople:  "To  all 
Thy  temples,  Lord,  built  for  Thy  holy  rites,  I  went, 
and  falling  headlong  as  a  suppliant  bathed  the  pave- 
ment with  my  tears.  That  my  journey  might  not  be 
in  vain,  I  prayed  to  all  the  gods,  Thy  ministers,  who 
rule  the  fertile  plain  of  Thrace,  and  those  who  on 
the  opposite  continent  protect  the  lands  of  Chalcedon, 
whom  Thou  hast  crowned  with  angelic  rays,  Thy  holy 
servants.  They,  the  blessed  ones,  helped  me  in  my 
prayers ;  they  helped  me  to  bear  the  burden  of  many 
troubles."  These  "  temples  "  were  Christian  churches ; x 
and  this  hymn  shows  how  the  syncretistic  religious 
philosophy  of 'Synesius  could  embrace  the  Christian 
cult.  The  hymn  indicates  that  yearning  for  inner 
divine  aid  and  comfort,  which  no  pagan  cult  could 
more  than  tantalize.  In  the  troubles  of  his  life, 
Synesius'  mood  gradually  becomes  Christian.  As  a 
pagan,  he  had  prayed  fruitlessly  for  freedom  from 
cares ;  next  he  begins  to  feel  their  pertinency  to  the 
soul's  progress ;  and  at  last  the  Incarnation,  that  great 
stumbling-block  to  pagan  thoughts  of  the  divine  dig- 
nity, presents  itself  as  the  dearest  comfort  to  his 
much-tried  soul.  The  hymn  marking  his  adoption 
of  Christianity  is  addressed  to  Christ  as  the  son  of 
the  Holy  Virgin.  Christ's  attributes  are  described 
in  nearly  the  same  terms  as  those  which  characterize 
the  "  Son "  in  Synesius'  Neo-platonic  hymns.  A 
hymn  on  the  Descent  into  Hell  shows  some  of  the 
pagan  ideas  which  mingled  with  Synesius'  acceptance 
of  Christianity:  "Thou  wentest  down  to  Tartarus, 
1  There  were  no  heathen  temples  in  Constantinople. 


v]  SYNESIUS  OF  CYRENE  81 

where  death  held  the  countless  races  of  mankind. 
The  old  man  Hades  feared  Thee,  the  devouring  dog 
(Cerberus)  fled  from  the  portal;  but,  having  released 
the  souls  of  the  righteous  from  suffering,  Thou  didst 
offer,  with  a  holy  worship,  hymns  of  thanksgiving  to 
the  Father.  As  Thou  wentest  up  on  high,  the  daemons, 
powers  of  the  air,  were  affrighted.  But  iEther,  wise 
parent  of  harmony,  sang  with  joy  to  his  sevenfold 
lyre  a  hymn  of  triumph.  The  morning  star,  day's 
harbinger,  and  the  golden  star  of  evening,  the  planet 
Venus,  smiled  on  Thee.  Before  Thee  went  the  horned 
moon,  decked  with  fresh  light,  leading  the  gods  of 
night.  Beneath  Thy  feet,  Titan  spread  his  flowing 
locks  of  light.  He  recognized  the  Son  of  God,  the 
creative  intelligence,  the  source  of  his  own  flames. 
But  Thou  didst  fly  on  outstretched  wings  beyond  the 
vaulted  sky,  alighting  on  the  spheres  of  pure  intelli- 
gence, where  is  the  fountain  of  goodness,  the  heaven 
enveloped  in  silence.  There  time,  deep-flowing  and 
unwearied  time,  is  not ;  there  disease,  the  reckless  and 
prolific  offspring  of  matter,  is  not.  But  eternity,  ever 
young  and  ever  old,  rules  the  abiding  habitation  of  the 
gods." 

Such  was  Synesius,  the  guardian  bishop  of  his  peo- 
ple, whose  manhood  would  excommunicate  the  tyrant 
governor,  but  would  not  give  up  that  wife  given  him 
by  "  God  and  the  law  and  the  sacred  hand  of  The- 
ophilus."1  When  a  pagan,  he  was  not  averse  to 
Christianity;    when   a  bishop,  he   did  not   give   up 

1  Patriarch  of  Alexandria.  The  celibacy  of  the  clergy  was  an 
issue  in  Synesius'  time.  There  is  no  evidence  that  Synesius  lived 
with  his  wife  after  he  became  bishop. 

G 


82  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

Neoplatonism.  His  last  letter  was  one  of  respectful 
devotion  to  Hypatia ;  his  last  prayer  was  to  Christ ; 
"  0  Christ,  Son  of  God  most  high,  have  mercy  on  Thy 
servant,  a  miserable  sinner  who  wrote  these  hymns. 
Release  me  from  the  sins  which  have  grown  np  in  my 
heart,  which  are  implanted  in  my  polluted  soul.  0 
Saviour  Jesus,  grant  that  hereafter  I  may  behold  Thy 
divine  glory."  The  man's  hope  flickers  upward  toward 
the  last  and  most  adorable  figure  of  his  pantheon. 


III.    Dionysius  the  Areopagite 

The  thought  and  opinions,  even  the  moods  of  Syne- 
sius  show  a  crude  mixture  of  Christianity  and  the 
higher  paganism.  The  pagan  elements  were  scarcely 
modified  by  their  new  association.  But  in  the  writ- 
ings of  Pseudo-Dionysius,1  there  is  a  union  of  Chris- 
tian and  pagan,  Greek,  oriental  and  Jewish,  a  union 
wherein  the  nature  of  each  ingredient  is  changed. 
Theological  philosophic  fantasy  has  never  built  up 
anything  more  remarkable.  It  was  a  very  proper 
product  of  its  time ;  a  construction  lofty  and  sys- 
tematized,   apparently   complete,   comparable   to   the 

1  It  would  require  a  volume  to  tell  the  history  of  the  controversy 
regarding  the  authorship  of  the  famous  Celestial  Hierarchy  and 
other  writings  purporting  to  be  the  works  of  Dionysius  the  Are- 
opagite, who  heard  Paul  preach  (Acts  xvii.  34).  That  contention  is, 
of  course,  untenable.  These  writings  were  probably  the  product 
of  Grseco-oriental  Christianity  of  the  fourth  or  fifth  century.  See, 
for  a  statement  of  the  present  status  of  the  Pseudo-Dionysius  or 
Pseudo-Areopagite  question,  the  article  on  Dionysius  in  the  Dic- 
tionary of  Christian  Biography,  and  Harnack's  Dogmengeschichte, 
Vol.  II,  p.  426,  note. 


v]  DIONYSIUS   THE   AREOPAG1TE  83 

Enneads  of  Plotinus  which  formed  part  of  its  mate- 
rials. Indeed,  materials  for  it  abounded  in  the  minds 
and  temperaments  of  the  mystic,  yet  still  dialectically 
constructive,  Syro-Judaic,  Hellenic,  Christianized  per- 
sonalities of  Alexandria.  They  offered  themselves 
temptingly  to  the  hand  strong  enough  to  build  with 
them.  There  was  all  that  had  entered  into  Neo- 
platonism,  both  in  its  more  severely  dialectic  modes 
as  established  by  Plotinus,  and  in  its  magic-mystic 
pagan  foolishness  as  left  by  Iamblichus.  There  was 
the  Jewish  angel  lore,  and  the  encroaching  Eastern 
mood  and  fancy  mingling  with  it,  and  there  was  Chris- 
tianity,—  what  did  not  that  include  as  understood 
or  felt  by  high  and  low,  by  shouting  rabble  or  angry 
dogmatist,  by  the  semi-pagan  or  by  him  who  was  all 
turned  to  Christ;  by  men  and  women,  by  dreamers, 
mystics,  rhetoricians,  soldiers,  sycophants,  and  tyrants, 
Greeks,  Syrians,  Copts,  hot-hearted  African  Latins, 
Italians,  Eomans,  and  all  the  sheer  or  semi-Hellenized 
or  Eomanized  barbarians  who  thronged  the  Empire  ? 
There  had  been  and  still  were  great  builders  who  had 
taken  their  materials  from  this  mass  of  "  Christian  n 
beliefs.  Erom  it  materials  were  drawn  for  formula  and 
creed ;  also  the  principles  of  liturgic  and  sacramental 
doctrine  and  corresponding  sacerdotal  function.  A 
great  man  like  Augustine,  his  heart  filled,  not  with 
vapors,  but  with  real  love  of  God,  and  having  a  mind 
of  universal  power,  might  from  out  of  this  same  mass 
mould  vital  truths  of  Christ  to  a  juristic  scheme  of 
sin  and  grace.  But  other  portions  made  a  potent  part 
of  faith  for  more  men  than  would  understand  Augus- 
tine.    These  included  the  popular  beliefs  regarding 


84  THE   CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

the  intermediate  superhuman  beings  who  seemed 
nearer  to  men  than  any  member  of  the  Trinity. 
Such  beliefs,  held  not  only  by  the  driven  crowd, 
but  by  its  guides  and  drivers,  demanded  systematiz- 
ing, that  they  might  be  tabulated  as  a  part  of  the 
hierarchically  authorized  religion. 

By  what  means  could  this  be  accomplished  ?  The 
materials  were  everywhere,  huge,  unformed,  wavering. 
Whence  should  come  the  schematic  principle  ?  Was 
it  to  be  juristic,  like  the  Roman,  Pauline,  legalistic 
work  of  Augustine  ?  That  was  too  austere  and  intol- 
erant. Latin  Christianity  had  already  taken  its  meta- 
physics from  the  Hellenic  East.  In  the  sphere  of 
transcendental  reason  and  fantasy,  Hellenism  always 
held  adaptable  constructive  principles.  Its  last  great 
creation,  Iseo-platonism,  was  potent  to  gather  and 
arrange  within  itself  the  manifold  elements  of  latter- 
day  paganism.  The  Neo-platonic  categories  might 
be  altered  in  name  and  import,  and  yet  the  scheme 
remain  a  scheme.  And  its  constructive  principle  of 
the  transmission  of  life  and  power  from  the  ultimate 
divine  Source  downward  through  orders  of  mediating 
beings  unto  men,  might  readily  be  adapted  to  the  Chris- 
tian God  and  His  ministering  angels.  The  dogmatic 
formulation  of  Christianity  set  God  and  the  Mediator, 
Christ,  beyond  the  reaeh  of  man's  imagination  and 
man's  heart,  both  of  which  needed  intermediate  con- 
ceptions, as  of  angelic  and  saintly  mediators.  God's 
removal  was  so  great  there  must  even  be  a  series  of 
these.  The  needed  scheme  would  naturally  spring 
from  Hellenism  in  its  latest  and  most  readily  adap- 
tive system,  which  was  also  nearest  to  the  moods  of 


v]  DIONYSIUS  THE  AREOPAGITE  85 

the  time.  And  a  schematic  principle  drawn  from  the 
most  all-embracing  syncretistic  pagan  system  would 
not  narrowly  exclude  matters  lying  beyond  the  sacred 
writings  or  the  decrees  of  councils.  Finally,  was  not 
the  prevailing  allegorism  there,  to  alter  whatever  in 
literal  sense  was  stubborn,  and  to  adorn  the  structure  ? 

There  was  thus  abundance  of  material  and  a  tool 
of  marvellous  constructive  potency.  There  was  also  a 
man,  whoever  he  was,  who  could  use  the  tool. 

"Dionysius,"  our  great  pseudonymous  unknown,  was 
a  transcendental  mystic  pantheist.  These  terms,  if 
contradictory,  are  at  least  inclusive.  He  had  a  grand 
conception,  sprung  from  Neo-platonic  and  Christian 
metaphysics,  of  the  sublime  transcendence  of  the  ulti- 
mate divine  Source.  This  Source,  however,  was  not 
severed,  remote,  inert;  but  a  veritable  Source  from 
which  abundant  life  should  stream  to  all  lower  orders ; 
in  part  directly  into  all  beings,  in  part  indirectly,  as 
power  and  guidance,  through  the  higher  orders  to  the 
lower.  With  Plotinus,  the  One  overflows  into  the 
Nous,  the  perfected  universal  Mind,  and  that  into 
the  World-Soul  and  the  souls  of  men.  With  Diony- 
sius, life,  creation,  every  good  gift,  is  from  God 
directly;  but  His  flaming  ministers  also  intervene, 
and  guide  and  aid  the  life  of  man,  which  comes  not 
from  them ;  and  the  life,  which,  through  love,  floods 
forth  from  God,  thereby  creating  the  beings  in  which 
it  manifests  itself,  has  its  mighty  counterflow  whereby 
it  draws  its  own  creations  to  itself.  God  is  at  once 
absolutely  transcendent  and  universally  immanent. 
To  live  is  to  be  united  with  God;  evil  is  the  non- 
existent, that  is,  severance  from  God.     All  that  is,  is 


86  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

part  of  the  forth-flowing  divine  life,  part  of  the  crea- 
tive saving  process,  which  ever  purifies,  enlightens,  and 
perfects,  and  so  draws  back  unto  the  Source. 

Such  is  the  inner  principle  of  Dionysius'  scheme. 
It  was,  however,  the  mode  of  carrying  out  the  scheme, 
which  was  to  hold  the  imagination  if  not  the  faith  of 
men  to  our  own  day.  The  transcendent  Source,  as 
well  as  the  Universal  Immanence,  is  the  Tri-une  God. 
Between  that  and  men  are  ranged  the  three  triads 
of  the  Celestial  Hierarchy:  the  Seraphim,  Cherubim, 
and  Thrones ;  the  Dominations,  Virtues,  Powers ;  the 
Principalities,  Archangels,  Angels.  Collectively,  their 
general  office  is  to  raise  mankind  to  God  through  puri- 
fication, illumination,  and  perfection;  and  to  all  of 
them  the  term  angel  may  be  applied.  More  particu- 
larly the  highest  triad,  which  is  nearest  God,  contem- 
plates the  divine  effulgence  and  reflects  it  onward 
to  the  second;  while  the  third,  the  more  specifically 
angelic  triad,  immediately  ministers  to  men.  The 
sources  of  these  names  are  evident;  Seraphim  and 
Cherubim  are  vague  but  mighty  forms  in  the  Old 
Testament;  later  Jewish  writings,  possibly  under 
Persian  influence,  gave  names  and  classification  to 
archangels  and  angels,1  who  also  fill  important  func- 
tions in  the  New  Testament.  The  other  names  were 
well  derived  from  two  great  mystic  passages  in  Paul's 
Epistles ; 2  but  neither  in  the  writings  of  the  Areopa- 
gite  nor  in  the  mediaeval  centuries,  did  they  acquire 
definite  attribute  and  personality.  Eather,  Seraph  and 
Cherub,  Angel  and  Archangel,  with  sometimes  inter- 

1  See,  e.g.,  Daniel  viii.  16;  ix.  21;  x.  21;  xii.  1;  Enoch  ix.  1; 
Tobit  xii.  15.  2  Eph.  i.  21 ;  Col.  i.  16. 


v]  DIOXYSIUS  THE  AREOPAGITE  87 

changeable  but  always  vivid  personalities,  were  to 
form  the  flaming  host  of  divine  ministrants  and  guar- 
dians of  men. 

The  works  of  the  Areopagite  may  not  have  been 
widely  read  in  the  West  before  they  were  translated 
in  the  ninth  century  by  Erigena.  But  from  that  time 
the  Celestial  Hierarchy  constituted  the  canon  of  angelic 
lore,  authoritative  for  the  religion  and  religious  art  of 
the  Middle  Ages.1  Its  closing  fifteenth  chapter  was 
more  especially  the  canon  of  angelic  symbolism  for 
literature  and  art.  There  the  author  explains  in  what 
respect  theology  attributes  to  angels  the  qualities  of 
fire,  why  the  Thrones  are  said  to  be  fiery  (irvptvovs) ; 
why  the  quality  of  fire  is  attributed  to  the  Seraphim, 
who  are  burning  (e/xTrpr/o-Tas),  as  their  name  signifies. 
"It  is  the  fiery  form  which  signifies,  with  Celestial 
Intelligences,  likeness  to  God ;  "  and  then  he  speaks 
of  fire's  marvellous  subtile  qualities.  Again,  he  ex- 
plains the  significance  of  the  human  form,  —  erect, 
rational,  contemplative  of  the  heavens  —  and  of  the 
parts  of  the  human  body,  when  ascribed  to  celestial 
beings;  for  example,  feet  are  ascribed  to  angels  to 
denote  their  unceasing  movement  on  the  divine  busi- 
ness ;  and  theology  declares  that  their  feet  are  winged 
(v7ro7TT€pov$)    to   denote   their    celerity.2     Further,    he 

1  Of  course,  there  is  plenty  of  mention  of  angels  among  the  Latin 
fathers;  e.g.,  Augustine,  Civ.  Dei,  VIII,  24,  speaks  of  angels, 
■whether  they  be  Sedes,  Dominationes,  Principatus  sive  Potestates. 
In  Civ.  Dei,  XI,  29  sqq.,  he  discusses  the  knowledge  of  God  possessed 
by  the  angels,  and  says  that  the  angels,  also,  have  the  joy  of  rest, 
—  requiescendi  felicito.tio. 

2  This  seems  to  be  a  bit  of  symbolism  taken  direct  from  the 
pagan  form  of  Hermes. 


88  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

explains  the  symbolism  of  the  garments  and  attri- 
butes, such  as  wands  and  axes,  which  are  given  them, 
and  why  angels  are  called  winds,1  and  are  given  the 
appearance  of  clouds;  then  the  significance  of  brass 
and  gold  and  of  many-colored  stones,  when  joined  to 
celestial  beings ;  and  then  the  symbolic  significance 
of  the  forms  of  lion,  ox,  eagle,  and  horse  ;  and  what  is 
denoted  by  rivers,  wheels,  or  by  a  chariot,  when  such 
are  furnished  to  celestials.2 

In  the  works  of  the  Areopagite,  the  Celestial  Hier- 
archy is  followed  by  the  Ecclesiastical  Hierarchy,  its 
counterpart  on  earth.  What  the  primal  tri-une 
Godhead  is  to  the  former,  Jesus  is  to  the  latter. 
The  Ecclesiastical  Hierarchy  is  likewise  composed  of 
three  triads.  The  first  includes  the  great  symbolic 
sacraments :  Baptism,  Communion,  Consecration  of 
the  Holy  Chrism,  which  last  most  directly  represents 
Christ,  the  Anointed  One.  Baptism  signifies  purifi- 
cation; Communion  signifies  enlightening;  and  the 
Holy  Chrism  signifies  perfecting.  The  second  triad 
is  made  up  of  the  three  orders  of  Bishops,  Presbyters, 
and  Deacons ;  or  rather,  to  use  the  Areopagite's  mys- 

i  Much  of  this  symbolism  is  drawn  from  Biblical  phrases :  e.g., 
as  to  the  symbol  of  winds,  see  Daniel  vii.  2  and  passim  that  chap- 
ter ;  also  Psalm  xviii.  10 ;  and  the  Areopagite,  Chap.  XV,  §  6,  quotes 
John  iii.  8:  "Thou  canst  not  tell  whence  it  cometh  nor  whither  it 
goeth." 

2  With  Chap.  XV  of  Celestial  Hierarchy  compare  Epistle  IX  of 
the  Areopagite  to  Titus,  "The  order  of  the  visible  universe  sets 
forth  the  invisible  things  of  Almighty  God,  as  says  Paul  and  the 
infallible  Word  M  (§  2) .  See  also  Epist.  VIII,  §  6,  of  the  Areopagite 
on  a  vision  of  the  mouth  of  Hell.  Also  compare  the  opening  of  the 
Byzantine  Manual  of  Painting  (on  which  see  post,  p.  344) ,  for  its 
reference  to  Dionysius. 


v]  DIONYSIUS  THE  AREOPAGITE  ,     89 

tic  terms:  Hierarchs  (Updpx^v  rdfa),  Light-bearers 
((fyayrayajyiKY)  ra£is),  Servitors  (Aeiroupycov  Ta£is)  ;  to  wit, 
the  consummate  interpreters  of  the  Sacraments,  the 
light-bringers  who  administer  them  in  Communion, 
and  the  purifiers  who  prepare  them.  The  third  and 
lowest  triad  consists  of  the  monks,  who  are  in  a  state 
or  process  of  perfection,  the  initiated  laity,  who  are  in 
a  state  of  illumination,  and  the  catechumens,  who  are 
in  a  probationary  state  of  purification.  This  treatise 
finds  in  all  worship  a  celebration  of  holy  mysteries, 
and  many  of  its  terms  suggest  the  pagan  mysteries. 
It  was  a  systematic  presentation  of  the  symbolical 
significance  of  all  acts  of  worship. 

Perhaps  the  noblest  of  the  Areopagite's  work  is 
that  on  the  Divine  Names,  which  follows  the  Ecclesi- 
astical Hierarchy.  It  is  a  discussion  of  the  qualities 
which  may  be  predicated  of  God,  according  to  the  war- 
rant of  the  terms  applied  to  Him  in  Scripture.  This 
work,  however,  was  not  unique,  like  the  Celestial 
Hierarchy.  It  was  occupied  with  a  ISTeo-platonized 
Christian  discussion  of  the  Divine  Nature.  In  such 
fields  the  Areopagite  had  many  rivals. 

The  fourth  and  least  of  the  Areopagite's  main 
works  is  that  on  Mystic  Theology;  in  which  is  ex- 
plained the  function  of  symbols,  and  how  he  who 
would  know  God  truly  must  rise  above  them  and  above 
all  conceptions  of  God  drawn  from  sensible  things ; 
for  all  these  things  are  not  He.1 

The  work  of  the  Areopagite  was  a  representative 

1  There  exist  also  ten  letters  ascribed  to  the  Areopagite ;  and 
the  extant  writings  refer  to  other  works  which  either  are  lost  or 
never  existed. 


90     -  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

product  of  its  time,  and  suited  to  the  tastes  of  the 
corning  mediaeval  centuries ;  suited  to  their  mystic 
fancies,  and  suited  to  their  need  of  concrete  super- 
human beings  who,  closer  at  hand  than  God  and  the 
homoousian  Christ,  should  aid  men  in  their  combats 
with  each  other  and  with  the  besetting  swarms  of 
devils.1 


IV.    Mysteries,  Symbolism,  and  Allegorical 
Interpretation 

The  word  "  mystery  M  has  had  many  meanings.  It 
has  always  meant  something  hidden,  beyond  common 
knowledge  or  even  human  capacity  for  knowing.  But 
the  hidden  "  mysteries n  might  differ  greatly ;  and 
there  might  be  a  difference  in  the  mode  of  conceiving 

1  The  Areopagite  becomes  a  power  in  the  Western  Middle  Ages 
after  the  translation  of  his  works  by  Erigena  and  the  definite 
form  given  to  his  legend  in  the  Vita  Dionysii  by  Hilduin,  abbot 
of  St.  Denis  in  the  time  of  Louis  the  Pious.  This  Vita  identifies 
the  Areopagite  with  St.  Denis,  a  fact  unquestioned  until  Abelard. 
See  also  Mystere  des  actes  des  Apotres,  Didron's  Annates  Archeolo- 
giques,  XIII  and  XIV.  The  Areopagite  frequently  appears  in  medi- 
aeval art ;  his  decapitation  is  rendered  in  the  tympanum  of  the  north 
portal  of  the  Abbey  of  St.  Denis ;  he  appears  in  the  Spanish  Chapel 
of  St.  Maria  Novella  in  Florence.  In  the  Louvre  there  is  a  paint- 
ing of  the  last  communion  and  martyrdom  of  St.  Denis,  of  the 
latter  part  of  the  fourteenth  century.  W.  Preger,  Geschichte  der 
deutschen  Mystik  im  Mittelalter,  Vol.  I,  pp.  283-291,  speaks  of  mys- 
tical teachings  in  the  German  tongue,  and  gives  a  German  rhymed 
poem  of  the  thirteenth  century  containing  doctrines  of  the  Areop- 
agite. For  his  influence  on  Meister  Eckhart,  see  Preger,  op.  cit., 
under  "  Eckhart."  Also  in  Hildebrand,  Didaktik  aus  der  Zeit  der 
Kreuzzuge  (Deutsche  National  Literatur),  pp.  38-49.  For  Dante's 
debt  to  Dionysius  see  Edmund  Gardner,  Dante's  Ten  Heavens,  also 
article  "  Dionisio  "  in  Toynbee's  Dante  Dictionary, 


v]  MYSTERIES   AND  SYMBOLISM  91 

the  fact  and  reason  of  their  being  "mysteries."  When 
Christ  spoke  of  the  "  mysteries  of  the  Kingdom  of 
Heaven,"  He  spoke  of  what  was  beyond  mortal  com- 
prehension —  even  as  there  is  for  man  the  necessary 
mystery  of  God.  But  men  are  surrounded  by  the 
common  things  of  daily  life,  which  are  not  mysteries 
to  the  ordinary  human  consciousness.  Such,  for  ex- 
ample, is  the  food  of  man,  like  bread  and  wine.  Only 
a  thoughtful  or  poetic  nature  would  see  any  mystery 
here;  common  men  are  scarcely  conscious  even  that 
there  lies  a  mystery  in  the  growth  of  wheat  or  of  the 
vine.  Likewise,  the  function  of  food  is  known  to  all, 
—  man  must  eat  to  live.  But  when  some  one  says, 
this  bread  before  us  has  received  strange  properties, 
whereby  eating  it  shall  have  a  marvellous  effect,  then 
a  mystery  has  been  added.  This  mystery  is  factitious, 
introduced  into  a  common  thing,  and  the  human  act, 
through  which  mysterious  qualities  have  been  im- 
parted to  a  common  thing,  is  an  act  of  magic.  But 
there  is  no  magic  in  the  mystery  of  God,  or  in  the 
mystery  of  whatever  is  naturally  recognized  by  men 
as  beyond  their  comprehension.  Here  lies  the  dif- 
ference between  mystery  and  mystery. 

Furthermore,  a  material  object  may  readily  be 
regarded  as  the  symbol  of  a  spiritual  fact ;  a  material 
object  or  a  physical  human  act  may  be  taken  as  a 
symbol  of  the  action  of  God  working  a  spiritual  change 
in  man.  To  conceive  an  objector  a  fact  to  be  a  symbol 
of  something  else  is  different  from  conceiving  it  to 
embody,  or  to  effect,  or  be,  that  something  else.  The 
difference  is  plain;  how  could  any  one  ignore  it  ?  Yet 
a  considerable  part  of  the  intellectual  and  religious,  as 


92 


THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE 


[chap. 


well  as  the  artistic  and  literan~,  history  of  the  first 
fifteen  centuries  of  the  Christian  era  is  a  history  of  the 
many  ways  in  which  this  difference  has  been  ignored, 
and  of  the  many  ways  in  which  the  magic  mystery  has 
been  confused  and  made  equal  with  the  mystery  which 
exists  by  reason  of  the  limitation  of  human  knowledge. 
Moreover,  this  confusion  must  be  regarded  as  wilful. 
It  was  not  that  germinal  mental  chaos  which  exists  in 
savages  and  barbarians  who  have  not  developed  the 
faculty  of  perceiving  clear  distinctions  ;  it  was  rather 
a  confusion  to  which  human  beings  abandoned  them- 
selves after  periods  of  clear  thinking  among  their 
ancestors,  Roman,  Greek,  and  Hebrew. 

There  is  a  further  related  phase  of  intellectual  his- 
tory; the  perverse  and  wilful  use  of  allegory,  or  rather 
the  ascribing  to  ancient  writings  and  myths  an  alle- 
gorical significance  which  they  did  not  have.  Christ 
made  abundant  use  of  allegory  and  image  in  parables 
which  should  suggest  the  character  of  what  was  be- 
yond his  hearers'  comprehension:  "the  Kingdom  of 
Heaven  is  like  unto  "  many  situations  and  factors  of 
common  life.  These  parables  were  meant  as  allego- 
ries. But  between  understanding  as  an  allegory  that 
which  was  meant  as  an  allegory,  and  interpreting  as 
an  allegory  that  which  was  stated  as  a  fact,  there  lies 
a  difference  analogous  to  that  between  treating  the 
symbol  as  a  symbol  and  treating  it  as  if  it  were  what 
it  symbolizes,  or  between  the  magic  mystery  and  the 
mystery  of  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven. 

These  are  three  elements  of  surpassing  importance 
in  the  history  of  man  during  the  opening  Christian 
centuries  :   the  magic-mystery,  the  symbol  taken  for 


V]  MYSTERIES   AND  SYMBOLISM  93 

the  fact  symbolized,  allegorical  interpretation.  These 
mental  processes  are  of  dominant  moulding  influence 
upon  the  personalities  of  those  with  whom  they  con- 
stitute usual  modes  of  thinking ;  and  they  are  very 
representative  of  at  least  one  side  of  the  personalities 
of  the  men  of  the  Empire  from  the  fourth  century, 
and  of  the  mediaeval  personality  in  general,  and  of  the 
difference  between  it  and  the  classic  personality.  They 
do  not,  however,  originate  with  Christianity,  but  have 
their  roots  in  the  Hellenism  and  Judaism  and  Orien- 
talism of  the  later  pre-Christian  centuries. 

Before  noticing  the  course  of  these  three  mental 
processes,  recall  for  an  instant  the  reasoning  of  the 
Areopagite.  The  Celestial  Hierarchy  was  an  attempt 
to  set  forth  something  of  the  mysteries  of  the  King- 
dom of  Heaven,  that  is,  of  the  mystery  of  God  and 
His  relations  to  mankind.  The  Ecclesiastical  Hier- 
archy was  the  symbol  on  earth  of  the  Celestial  Hier- 
archy. But  the  Ecclesiastical  Hierarchy,  in  every 
branch,  is  more  than  symbol;  it  is  mystery,  and 
magic-mystery,  and  represents  a  magically  wrought 
manifestation  of  the  Celestial  Hierarchy  on  Earth,  a 
magically  wrought  presence  of  the  divine  and  spiritual 
within  material  objects  and  human  acts.  The  three 
sacraments  embody  and  produce  the  effect  of  the 
divine  and  spiritual;  from  symbols  they  have  magi- 
cally become  that  which  they  symbolize.  And,  of 
course,  the  Areopagite  uses  allegorical  interpretation 
of  Scripture  wherever  it  suits  his  purpose.  All  this 
makes  his  work  so  representative  and  so  influential. 

The  secret  of  the  Eleusinian  and  other  pagan  mys- 
teries has  been  kept  so  well   that  there   have   been 


94  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

doubts  as  to  its  existence.  Probably  the  object  of 
those  mysteries  was  to  insure  a  happy  lot  to  the  initi- 
ated in  the  life  beyond  the  grave.  This  purpose  may 
never  have  been  a  secret.  The  secret  lay  rather  in 
the  rites  which  worked  so  potently  upon  the  mood  of 
the  participants.  In  general,  these  consisted  in  puri- 
fication, initiation,  and  kiroTrrda,  the  highest  degree  of 
participation. 

With  the  renewed  religiousness  of  the  second  cen- 
tury after  Christ,  a  renewed  life  came  to  the  various 
pagan  mysteries,  which  were  necessarily  influenced  by 
the  aims  and  moods  inspiring  the  last  phases  of  pagan 
philosophy.  Probably  in  the  mysteries  men  were 
seeking  ow^ta,  salvation  from  the  pains  and  fate  of 
mortality;  and  to  this  desire  was  joined  a  yearning 
for  purification  from  sin  and  for  reconcilement  with 
the  Divine.  There  was  a  connection  between  pagan 
mysteries  and  the  initiations  and  doctrines  of  Gnosti- 
cism. Here  the  details  are  obscure,  as  is  obscure  any 
connection  that  there  may  have  been  between  Gnosti- 
cism and  the  growth  of  mysteries  in  the  Catholic 
Church.  The  terminology  of  the  pagan  mysteries 
certainly  passed  into  these  last :  yet  it  does  not  follow 
that  the  development  of  the  Christian  mysteries  was 
connected  with  any  ancient  pagan  rites.  The  growth 
of  "  Mysteries"  was  proceeding  vigorously  in  both 
Christian  and  pagan  circles  ;  and  Christian  rites  were 
rapidly  becoming  a  celebration  of  mysteries.  There 
was  in  the  rites  the  element  of  secrecy,  in  that  they 
were  celebrated  in  the  presence  only  of  those  who, 
after  formal  instruction,  renunciation,  and  profession, 
were  duly   admitted.      And    a   mystical    power   was 


V]  MYSTERIES   AND  SYMBOLISM  95 

ascribed  to  the  material  substances  and  physical  acts 
by  which  the  rites  were  accomplished.  Catechumens 
were  instructed  plainly  as  to  the  meaning  and  effect 
of  baptism  only  when  they  were  about  to  be  baptized ; 
they  were  forbidden  to  divulge  the  teaching  save  to 
other  catechumens  preparing  for  baptism,  and  only 
the  baptized  were  admitted  to  the  celebration  of  the 
Eucharist.  This  point  of  resemblance  to  the  heathen 
mysteries  is  not  to  be  unduly  pressed.  Christ  had 
said,  "Cast  not  your  pearls  before  swine,"  and  had 
explained  His  parables  only  to  His  disciples.  And,  as 
Cyril  of  Jerusalem  says,  there  was  fitness  in  not  divulg- 
ing matters  to  the  unworthy,  who  would  not  under- 
stand. Moreover,  the  early  situation  of  the  churches 
furnished  practical  reasons  for  wariness  as  to  strangers.1 
The  other  element  of  Mystery  is  of  greater  import. 
Writing  near  the  middle  of  the  fourth  century,  Cyril 
of  Jerusalem,  in  the  Introduction  to  his  lectures  to 
catechumens  preparing  for  baptism,  maintains,  as  the 
Catholic  Church  always  maintained,  the  spiritual  sig- 
nificance of  the  rite;  he  distinguishes  between  the 
external  rite  of  Baptism  and  the  change  of  heart, 
without  which  Baptism  profits  not.  Yet  the  magic- 
mystery  element  is  strong  with  Cyril,  as  with  all  the 
men  of  his  time  both  East  and  West.  He  calls  the 
candidates  partakers  of  the  mysteries,  and  invites 
them  to  come  to  the  mystical  seal,  els  rrjv  pwrrudp 
o-<t>pay2&a.2     Instruction   and   preparation   render   the 

1  The  Didache'  of  the  Apostles,  which  gives  the  earliest  non- 
cauonic  picture  of  the  Christian  community,  shows  (Chap.  XII)  the 
care  exercised  in  receiving  strangers  professing  to  be  Christians. 

2  Catecheses,  I,  2. 


96  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

catechumens  "  competent "  for  the  divine  and  life- 
giving  baptism  {Odov  *ai  £a>07roiov  ySaTTTtcr/xaros)  ; *  and 
just  before  the  rite  is  performed  they  are  formally 
exorcised  to  purify  their  souls  from  evil,2  whereupon, 
in  answer,  they  with  equal  solemnity  "  renounce  the 
devil  and  all  his  works. "  As  to  the  baptismal  water, 
says  Cyril,  just  as  meats,  simple  in  their  nature,  are 
polluted  (/xc/xoXiJcr^cva)  by  the  invocation  of  idols,  so 
the  simple  water,  by  invocation  of  Father,  Son,  and 
Holy  Spirit,  acquires  a  power  of  holiness  (8vva/uv 
ayioTrjros).  The  magic-mystery  lies  in  the  novel 
property  imparted  to  water  through  a  human  act. 

So  much  for  the  element  of  magic-mystery  in  the 
rite  of  Baptism.  The  far  mightier  tale  of  how  Chris- 
tian worship  came  to  be  summed  up  in  the  mystical 
sacrifice  of  the  Eucharist  need  not  be  entered  on. 
With  Ignatius,  in  the  early  part  of  the  second  cen- 
tury, the  bread  and  wine  have  become  <£ao/xaKov 
a6avacrta<;,3  the  drug  of  immortality;  with  Cyril  of 
Jerusalem,  the  seeming  bread  is  not  bread,  but  the 
body  of  Christ,  the  wine  is  not  wine,  but  the  blood 
of  Christ.4  This  transformation  of  Christ's  commemo- 
rative supper,  this  ceaseless  priest-wTOught  reincarna- 
tion of  our  blessed  Lord,  is  the  supreme  instance  of 
the  development  of  the  magic-mystery  element  in  the 
Christian  Church. 

It  is  clear  that  the  development  of  the  magic-mys- 
tery in  Baptism  and  the  Eucharist  was  related  in 
many  ways  to  the  confusion  of  the  symbol  with  the 

1  Cyril,  Mystagogica,  I,  1. 

2  See  Gregory  Xazianzen,  Or.  40. 
8  Epistle  to  Ephesians,  xxi. 

4  Mystagogica,  IV,  9. 


v]  MYSTERIES   AND   SYMBOLISM  97 

fact  symbolized.  Such  magic  and  such  confusion 
were  no  part  of  Christ's  teachings;  but  they  had 
always  been  part  of  the  religions  of  heathen  peoples 
from  India  to  Koine.  The  treatment  of  these  two 
chief  acts  of  Christian  worship  as  magic-mysteries,  by 
all  the  authoritative  leaders  of  the  churches,  opened 
the  door  to  many  other  pagan  elements  which  more 
slowly  gained  authoritative  sanction.  As  the  bap- 
tismal water  and  the  bread  of  the  Eucharist  have 
magic  virtue,  so  other  material  objects,  to  wit,  the 
bones  and  relics  of  the  saints  and  martyrs,  acquire 
magic  power.  And  despite  some  feeble  protests  and 
qualifications  by  the  Fathers,1  many  ideas  and  prac- 
tices from  polytheism  passed  into  the  beliefs  and  prac- 
tices of  Christianity  —  only  with  saints  and  angels  and 
the  Virgin  Mary  substituted  for  heroes  and  gods  and 
goddesses.  All  of  this,  important  as  it  is  for  the 
transition  centuries  and  for  the  Middle  Ages,  calls 
for  no  special  mention  here.2  But  the  relation  of 
magic-mystery  and  confused  symbolism  to  allegorical 
interpretation  may  be  noticed,3  and  something  said 
regarding  the  last. 

Allegorical  interpretation  represents  that  conserva- 
tive religious  progress  which  avoids  a  breach  with  the 
past  and  clings  to  the  statements  of  ancient  seers. 
This  was  a  fundamental  reason  for  allegorical  inter- 
pretation with  Greeks,  with  Jews,  and  with  Christians. 

Homer  and  Hesiod  made  the  gods ;  their  writings 

1  Augustine,  for  example,  Cil\  Dei,  VIII,  27. 

2  Cf.  Harnack,  Dogmenyeschichte,  2d  Ed.,  II,  413-462. 

8  Many  of  the  rites  of  the  pagan  mysteries  were  intended  as 
allegories. 

H 


98  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

were  authoritative  for  the  traditional  religion  of 
Greece.  Only  the  overbold  philosopher-moralist  Xe- 
nophanes  would  denounce  their  tales  of  divine  doings, 
or  the  clear-eyed  idealist  Plato  refuse  to  admit  those 
poets  to  his  commonwealth,  or  one  great  ethical  poet, 
Pindar,  might  adjure  men  to  repeat  only  worthy  tales 
of  the  gods.  Usually  the  conservative  spirit  of  Greek 
religious  progress  insisted  upon  the  truth  of  the  time- 
honored  poets.  That  truth  lay,  however,  not  in  the 
literal  sense  of  their  words,  but  in  the  meaning 
therein  veiled;  that  is  to  say,  these  tales  were  alle- 
gories. Allegorical  interpretations  became  current 
in  the  fifth  century  before  Christ.  In  spite  of  Plato, 
Homeric  stories  of  the  gods  were  held  by  the  learned 
to  be  representations  of  natural  phenomena;  books 
were  written  on  the  allegorical  significance  of  Homer, 
"  whose  words  would  be  impious  were  they  not  alle- 
gories." The  religious  conservatism  of  the  Stoics 
caused  that  large  and  respected  school  to  adopt  the 
system.  By  the  time  of  Augustus,  the  habit  of  find- 
ing an  allegory  everywhere  had  become  so  universal 
that  learned  men  deemed  that  no  great  writer  would 
write  save  in  allegories.1 

It  was  the  same  with  the  Jews.  Philo  of  Alexan- 
dria2 was  not  the  first  to  apply  allegorical  interpretation 
to  the  Pentateuch;  but  he  is  the  great  example  of  a 
Hellenized  Jew,  by  this  means,  reading  into  the  sacred 
writings  all  the  best  that  he  had  drawn  from  philos- 
ophy.   This  universal  eclectic  is  still  a  Jew ;  he  deems 

1  See,  for  examples,  Hatch,  Hibbert  Lectures,  1888,  pp.  50-65. 

2  Born  between  20  and  10  B.C.  He  took  part  in  the  embassy  to 
Caligula,  40  a.d. 


v]  MYSTERIES   AND   SYMBOLISM  99 

the  Pentateuch  to  be  inspired  truth,  and  thinks  that 
the  Greeks  drew  their  wisdom  from  the  works  of 
Moses.  The  Christian  Fathers  took  many  scriptural 
interpretations  from  Philo's  writings.1 

The  Old  Testament  abounds  in  images;  the  later 
prophets,  Ezekiel  and  Daniel,  construct  elaborate  alle- 
gories. Likewise  the  earliest  Christian  writings.  The 
synoptic  gospels  have  the  parables ;  John's  gospel,  its 
images;  the  Book  of  Revelation  is  the  culmination  of 
Hebrew  allegorical  apocalyptic  literature ;  and  the 
"  Shepherd  of  Hermas,"  one  of  the  earliest  and  most 
popular  of  the  extra-canonical  writings,  is  allegory 
from  beginning  to  end.  Thus  image  and  allegory 
were  native  with  Christianity's  forerunner,  and  sprang 
to  renewed  life  with  Christian  beginnings.     The  Gen- 

1  For  example,  in  Philo,  Allegories  of  the  Sacred  Laws,  I,  19,  the 
four  rivers  of  Eden  represent  the  four  virtues,  prudence,  temper- 
ance, courage,  justice:  the  main  stream,  out  of  which  they  sepa- 
rate, is  generic  virtue,  the  Wisdom  of  God.  This  interpretation  is 
retained  by  the  Fathers. 

Philo's  chief  works  were :  (1)  z-qr-n^aTa  kou  Auo-ets,  Questiones  et 
solutiones,  on  the  Pentateuch ;  this  work  gives  the  literal  meaning 
as  well  as  the  allegorical  significance;  it  was  used  by  the  Fathers, 
especially  by  Ambrose ;  (2)  No/xtov  Uptov  aW-qyopiaL,  the  large  allegori- 
cal commentary  devoted  entirely  to  the  allegorical  meaning.  Schiirer 
(Jewish  People,  etc.,  Ill,  330)  says  that  its  "fundamental  thought 
is  that  the  history  of  mankind  as  related  in  Genesis  is  in  reality 
nothing  else  than  a  system  of  psychology  and  ethic.  The  different 
individuals,  who  here  make  their  appearance,  denote  the  different 
states  of  soul  (rpoTrot  t^  \pvxris)  which  occur  among  men.  To  ana- 
lyze these  in  their  variety  and  their  relations  both  to  each  other 
and  to  the  Deity  and  the  world  of  sense,  and  then  to  deduce  moral 
doctrines,  is  the  special  aim  of  this  great  allegorical  commentary.,, 

Turning  Biblical  thought  into  Greek  affects  Philo's  style,  and 
makes  him  a  literary  precursor  of  the  Greek  Fathers.  Cf .  Croiset, 
Hist,  de  la  lit.  Grecque,  V,  pp.  430-434. 


100  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

tile  churches  were  to  wage  mighty  battles  with  Gnos- 
tics, Manicheans,  and  all  their  kin,  and  with  professed 
heathens  too,  upon  the  character  of  the  Old  Testament, 
its  inspired  truth  or  diabolic  falsity,  and  its  relation 
to  Christianity.  Much  in  the  Old  Testament  could 
not  but  shock  the  Greek  consciousness,  whether  Chris- 
tianized or  still  pagan.  Yet  its  divine  authority  was 
not  to  be  denied  in  the  religion  whose  Founder  pro- 
claimed Himself  the  final  Messianic  fulfilment  of 
Scripture.  Among  all  educated  people,  the  habit  of 
allegorical  interpretation  was  so  strong  that  the  Old 
Testament,  whatever  its  character,  was  certain  to  be 
read  allegorically  by  Christians,  who  would  not  be 
slow  to  tread  in  Philo's  steps.  This  system  offered 
itself  as  the  natural  means  to  explain  the  harsh  deeds 
and  the  anthropomorphic  crudities  in  the  conception 
of  divine  action  recorded  in  the  Sacred  Writings. 
Thus  allegorical  interpretation  found  again  in  Chris- 
tianity its  primary  apologetic  function ;  and  thereupon 
this  great  defence  of  the  inspired  truth  of  Hebrew 
Scripture  was  used  as  the  sword  of  the  Gospel  against 
Jew  as  well  as  heathen.  With  many  a  subtle  turn  and 
flash  of  unexpected  meaning  it  was  made  to  prove  that 
the  life  and  death  and  resurrection  of  Christ  were  pre- 
dicted by  prophecy  and  spiritually  prefigured  in  the 
entire  contents  of  the  Old  Testament. 

Thus,  first  applied  to  the  Old  Testament  and  then 
to  the  New,  allegorical  interpretation  pervades  Chris- 
tian literature,  and  becomes  the  authoritative  system 
of  interpretation.  It  begins  openly  with  Paul's  "  And 
that  rock  was  Christ," l  and  with  the  same  apostle's 
1 1  Cor.  x.  4. 


v]  MYSTERIES   AND  SYMBOLISM  101 

equally  wonderful  interpretation  of  the  twenty-first 
chapter  of  Genesis.1  Not  many  decades  later,  in  the 
Epistle  of  Barnabas,  the  goat  cast  forth  with  the  sins 
of  the  people  is  a  type  of  Christ ; 2  so  is  Moses ;  so  is 
the  brazen  serpent  which  he  set  up  ; 8  and  the  numbers, 
ten  and  eight  and  three  hundred,  of  men  circumcised  by 
Abraham  show  symbolically  that  the  patriarch  looked 
forward  to  the  crucified  Messiah.4  A  Greek  philoso- 
pher Christian  like  Justin  might  refrain  from  alle- 
gorical interpretation  in  an  apology  where  there  was 
slight  reference  to  the  Hebrew  Scriptures ;  or  might 
employ  it  pertinently  in  arguments  with  a  Jew,5  even 
as  the  great  African-Latin  Christian  advocate,  Tertul- 
lian,  used  it  against  the  gnostic  Marcion.6  But  the 
perfecters  of  the  system,  as  applied  to  explain  the  Old 
Testament  and  harmonize  it  with  the  New,  and  thus 
make  it  prophetic  and  prefigurative  of  Christ,  are  the 
Alexandrians  Clement  and  Origen.  With  them  it  is 
also  used  to  correct  literal  interpretation  of  the  New 
Testament. 

The  Alexandrian  Fathers  do  not  stop  with  this. 
Every  symbol  is  symbolical  of  something  which  it 
apparently  is  not ;  every  allegory  veils  in  its  stated 
facts  a  deeper  meaning.  So  every  allegory  may  sug- 
gest that  the  real  and  spiritual  essence  and  truth  of 
things  is  not  according  to  their  sensible  appearance, 
but  lies  in  their  symbolical  analogy  with  the  unseen 

1  Gal.  iv.  22 ;  v.  1.    Cf .  Heb.  vi-x. 

2  Ep.  of  Barnabas,  Chap.  7. 

*  lb. ,12. 

*  1=10 ;  H=8 ;  and  the  cross  T=300. 

5  See  Dialogue  with  Trypho,  40,  41,  42,  91,  113,  126,  134,  138. 

6  E.g.,  Contra  Marcion,  III,  16  and  13;  also  in  De  Baptismo. 


102  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

workings  of  the  Divine.1  In  all  allegory  there  is  mys- 
tery, and  in  all  allegory  mysticism,  with  its  inherent 
spirit  of  contradiction  and  paradox,  is  implicit.  Thus 
allegory  serves  not  only  to  set  forth  mystery,  but  to 
develop  mysticism.  So  it  was  in  the  Christian  Church. 
The  first  great  mystical  interpretation  of  Scripture 
was  Origen's  allegorical  commentary  on  the  Song  of 
Songs,  which,  according  to  him,  is  an  Epithalamium; 
but  the  bride  is  the  Church  and  the  bridegroom  Christ, 
or  the  bride  is  the  soul  and  the  bridegroom  is  the 
Word  of  God.2 

Origen  is  the  first  to  systematize  allegorical  inter- 
pretation. For  him  all  Scripture  has  a  spiritual  mean- 
ing; while  not  all  of  it  has  a  bodily,  i.e.  a  literal, 
meaning;  for  a  passage  cannot  be  taken  to  have  a 
literal  meaning  when  such  meaning  would  be  absurd; 
and  he  instances  certain  statements  in  Genesis  as  to 
the  Garden  of  Eden,  and  the  story  of  the  Devil  taking 
Christ  up  into  a  high  mountain  and  showing  him  all 
the  kingdoms  of  the  earth;  also  the  Saviour's  com- 
mand, "  If  thy  right  eye  offend  thee,  pluck  it  out.*' 3 
But  these  have  a  spiritual  meaning,  as  those  have 
which  are  also  literally  true.  Likewise  many  scrip- 
tural commands  are  useful,  literally  taken,  though 
they  may  be  more  spiritually  interpreted.  Or,  again, 
according  to  many  passages  in  Origen,  Scripture  may 

1  E.g.,  see  Origen,  Be  Principiis,  Introd.  Sec.  8. 

2  Lib.  I,  Origen  in  Canticum  Canticorum,  in  Rufinus'  Latin 
translation.  The  Queen  of  Sheba  coming  to  Solomon  is  the  Church 
of  the  Gentiles  coming  to  Christ,  ib.  Origen,  Homilia,  II,  1,  on 
Song  of  Songs,  refers  to  Col.  iii.  9,  "  Husbands,  love  your  wives,  as 
Christ  loved  the  Church." 

s  De  Prin.  IV,  I,  16,  18. 


v]  MYSTERIES   AND  SYMBOLISM  103 

be  said  to  have  three  senses,  the  literal,  the  moral,  and 
the  spiritual :  as  "  The  grain  of  mustard  is  first  the 
actual  seed,  then  faith,  then  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven. 
So  again,  the  little  foxes  of  the  Song  of  Songs  are 
typical,  in  the  second  sense,  of  sins  affecting  the  indi- 
vidual, in  the  third,  of  heresies  distracting  the  Church. 
The  moral  embraces  all  that  touches  the  single  soul 
in  this  life,  in  its  relation  to  the  law  of  right,  or  to 
God;  the  spiritual  includes  all  < mysteries/  all  the 
moments  in  the  history  of  the  community,  the  Church, 
in  time,  and  still  more  in  eternity."  ' 

There  was  opposition  to  allegorical  interpretation. 
Some  Christian  writers 2  opposed  it  altogether,  as  Plato 
had  done ;  or,  again,  pagans  objected  to  the  validity  of  its 
application  to  the  Old  Testament,3  and  Christians  said 
it  could  not  be  used  to  veil  the  vileness  of  pagan  mythol- 
ogy. But  there  was  no  checking  a  system  universally 
in  use,  and  which  alone  seemed  capable  of  drawing  forth 
the  essential  meaning  of  Scripture.  In  its  application 
to  both  Old  and  ^N"ew  Testaments,  the  writings  of  Hilary 
of  Poictiers,4  of  Ambrose,5  and  of  Augustine  6  authori- 

1  Bigg,  Christian  Platonisis,  p.  136. 

2  See  Hatch,  Hihbert  Lectures,  1888,  pp.  79-82.  St.  Basil  in  Horn. 
Ill,  31,  in  Hexaemeron  (Migne,  Patr.  Gr.,  29,  col.  74) ,  condemns  the 
interpretation  of  the  division  of  the  waters,  which  makes  them  sig- 
nify 6vva/uLet?  TTvcv/aaTt/ca?  (virtutes  spirit uales) ,  etc.  See  also  Horn. 
IX,  in  Hexaemeron,  fol.  80  (Migne,  29,  col.  188). 

3  E.g.,  Celsus,  in  Origen,  Contra  Celsum,  IV,  48. 

4Hilarius,  Commentarius  in  Matthaeum,  e.g.,  Cap.  7,  10.  The 
foxes  (false  prophets)  have  holes,  and  the  birds  of  the  air  (demons) 
have  nests,  etc. 

5  See  Ebert,  AIL  Ges.  (2d  Ed.),  I,  147-155. 

6  See  e.g.,  Reply  to  Faustns  theManichs&an,  XII,  25-31,  and  XXII ; 
Sermons  on  Gospel  of  John,  XVII,  8;  XXIV;  XLVHI,  5;  CXVIII, 
4;  CXXII,  7,  8;   Civ.  Dei,  XIII,  21;   XV,  27.     Cassian,    Conlatio, 


104  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

tatively  made  it  part  of  the  Latin  Church  forever. 
Perhaps  in  fantastic  —  incipiently  barbaric  —  extrava- 
gance of  interpretation,  no  Greek  Christian  writer  had 
ever  equalled  the  Commentary  on  Job  by  him  who 
rightly  was  called  Gregory  the  Great.1 

In  the  writings  of  these  great  Fathers  of  the  Latin 
Church,  whose  personalities  are  so  deeply  representa- 
tive of  the  transition  from  the  antique  to  the  medi- 
aeval, are  to  be  found  those  myriad  mystical  allegorical 
interpretations  of  Scripture  which  were  to  dominate 
the  literature  and  inspire  the  art  of  the  Middle  Ages. 
Some  they  invented,  some  they  took  from  Philo  or  the 
Christian  Alexandrians.  A  study  of  these  matters 
shows  how  the  human  spirit  may  be  moulded  by  the 
instruments  and  forms  which  the  tendencies  of  some 
epoch  of  its  development  have  created.  We  have  seen 
how  the  system  of  allegorical  interpretation  came  into 
Christian  use  after  it  had  been  used  by  Jews  and 
heathens.  Christianity  was  a  supremely  spiritual 
religion ;  it  had  a  foundation  in  an  historical  antece- 
dent, the  spirituality  of  which  was  cruder.  It  adopted 
the  system  of  allegorical  interpretation  in  order  to 
harmonize  its  antecedent  with  itself,  and  also  as  a  fit- 
ting medium  through  which  to  express  itself.  The 
use  of  symbolism  and  allegory  indicates  a  greater 
interest  in  the  veiled  truths  of  life  than  in  life's 
visible  facts.      Conversely,   this  habit,  once  formed, 

XIV,  8,  having  spoken  of  irpaxTi/cij  and  e^p-qriK-q  scientia,  says  that 
the  latter  is  divided  into  historica  interpretatio  and  intellegentia 
spiritalis,  "  spiri talis  autem  scientiae  genera  sunt  tria,  tropologia, 
allegoria,  anagogia."     Cf.  Conlatio,  XIV,  11. 

1  In  thirty-five  books.    This  work  is  usually  called  the  Moralia, 


v]  MYSTERIES   AND  SYMBOLISM  105 

accustoms  men  to  look  everywhere  and  in  everything 
for  the  veiled  yet  suggested  spiritual  element  and  to 
regard  that  as  the  important,  nay,  as  the  real  matter. 
To  Christians,  far  more  than  to  Jews  or  pagans,  the 
spiritual  life,  as  foretaste  and  determinant  of  life  eter- 
nal, was  the  important  and  the  veritably  real.  They 
should  be  always  seeking  it  and  its  hidden  traces. 
Material  objects  spread  before  the  eyes,  or  narrated 
facts,  were  in  themselves  transient  and  distracting. 
Their  real  interest,  indeed  their  reality,  lay  in  their 
symbolism,  in  the  allegory  which  the  spiritually 
minded  man  might  draw.  The  barren  physical  thing 
or  fact  was  as  the  "  letter  which  killeth  " ;  it  had  no 
salvation  in  it.  That  lay  in  the  spiritual  significance 
which  the  fact  shadowed  forth.  Herein  was  the  veri- 
table essence,  the  real  fact.  Reality  lies  not  in  the  veil, 
but  in  what  the  eye  of  the  spirit  sees  beneath  the  veil. 
These  transcendental  interests  and  assumptions, 
which  are  promoted  by  allegorism,  were,  in  the  time 
of  deepening  ignorance,  to  open  wide  the  door  to  all 
miracles,  —  the  mysterious  work  of  God  and  his  min- 
isters. They  were  intimately  connected  with  the  uni- 
versal desire  for  miracles,  a  desire  so  expectant  that 
to  those  possessed  by  it  the  miraculous  occurrence 
is  the  occurrence  to  be  looked  for.  For  the  miracle 
was  the  fact  which  directly  disclosed  the  will  of  God, 
and  so  was  a  manifestation  of  the  unseen  power  which 
other  facts  could  but  suggest  symbolically.  Alone 
among  facts,  the  miracle  even  in  itself  was  not  the 
"  letter  which  killeth/'  but  an  instance  of  the  "  spirit 
which  maketh  to  live,"  a  veritable  instance  of  salva- 
tion.    In  miracles,  the  fact,  the  symbol,  was  identical 


106  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap,  v 

with  what  was  symbolized.  Habits  of  allegorical  in- 
terpretation disposed  learned  men  toward  the  mirac- 
ulous ;  while  the  ignorant,  universally  superstitious 
crowd  expected  miracles  everywhere. 

These  interests  and  assumptions  were  also  to  be 
potent  in  moulding  literature  and  art.  Under  their 
influence  the  artist's  imagination  will  not  be  busied 
with  creations  which  represent  facts  as  they  visibly 
occur ;  but  will  evolve  such  facts  and  series  of  facts 
as  most  fittingly  symbolize  the  unseen.  In  painting, 
in  sculpture,  and  finally  in  architecture,  the  artist 
will  endeavor  to  shadow  forth  in  symbols  things  of 
the  spirit ;  his  work  shall  be  a  work  of  love  for  truths 
veiled  in  their  symbols.  And  likewise  in  literature, 
the  interest,  the  truth,  the  reality  of  the  poem  shall 
lie  in  its  mystic  meaning.  The  full  new  blood  of  the 
young  northern  peoples  will  wrestle  mightily  against 
this  tendency ;  will  produce  tales  of  wonderful  adven- 
ture, of  unimaginable  bravery  and  strife,  of  earthly 
love  quite  sufficiently  animal.  But  time  and  again, 
and  in  most  typical  productions,  this  tendency  shall 
triumph  both  in  the  earthly  interests  of  human  life 
and  in  humanity's  sublimer  spiritual  strainings.  It 
will  produce  at  last,  on  one  hand,  the  Roman  cle  la 
Rose,  and  on  the  other,  the  Divina  Commedla  ;  while, 
as  it  were  between  these  two,  swing  and  waver  or  circle 
like  starlings  strange  tales  of  sinful  love  and  holy  striv- 
ing, whereof  Arthur's  knights  shall  be  the  heroes,  and 
wherein  across  the  stage  pass  on  to  final  purity  Lancelot 
and  Guinevere  as  well  as  Galahad  and  Parcival. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE    IDEALS    OF    KNOWLEDGE,    BEAUTY,    LOVE 

The  genius  of  Greece  evolved  and  gave  the  world 
two  principles  of  life,  the  love  of  knowledge  and  the 
love  of  beauty.  They  appear  in  Homer ;  they  were 
perfected  in  the  classic  Greek  age.  Through  the  Alex- 
andrian and  later  Hellenistic  periods  of  mingled  de- 
cadence and  spiritual  growth,  these  principles  were 
active  ;  and  then  they  were  as  leaven  to  the  Latin  race, 
though  always  changing  with  the  times.  The  Chris- 
tian Fathers,  with  other  classically  educated  men,  rec- 
ognized them.  And  the  manner  in  which  they  were 
modified  in  great  Christian  personalities,  especially  in 
those  of  the  transition  epoch,  is  of  importance  in  trac- 
ing the  juncture  of  antiquity  with  the  Middle  Ages. 

In  the  transition  from  the  antique  to  the  mediaeval, 
the  changes  in  the  ideals  of  beauty,  love,  and  knowl- 
edge are  involved  in  the  religious  change  from  pagan- 
ism to  Christianity.  No  sharp  lines  can  be  drawn 
between  the  degrees  of  modification  undergone  by 
various  elements  of  antique  culture  in  their  passage 
to  the  Middle  Ages,  or  between  the  transmission  of 
pagan  elements  and  the  partial  or  complete  substitution 
of  Christian  principles.  Yet  the  preceding  chapters 
have  been  gradually  passing  from  the  considera- 
tion of  pagan  elements  subsisting  scarcely  modified 

107 


108  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

in  Christian  writings  to  the  consideration  of  those 
which  were  more  deeply  Christianized;  and  in  this 
and  the  following  chapters  topics  are  considered 
wherein  pagan  elements  have  been  either  trans- 
formed or  discarded.  From  the  antique  to  the  medi- 
aeval attitude  toward  love  and  other  emotions  the 
change  is  fundamental ;  while  in  the  rise  of  monasti- 
cism  there  is  a  complete  elimination  of  pagan  princi- 
ples and  the  evolution  of  a  Christian  system. 

I.   Philosophy  and  Dogma 

With  Christians,  the  love  of  knowledge  would  bear 
relation  to  their  views  of  literature  and  philosophy. 
Deep  aversion  might  be  felt  toward  the  sinful  and 
idolatrous  pagan  literature ;  yet  the  impossibility  of 
forbidding  it  was  evident,  when  Christianity  was 
spreading  among  educated  men.  There  was  no  other 
means  of  getting  that  education  which  distinguished 
a  Roman  from  a  barbarian.  In  their  conflict  with  the 
heathen  world,  Christians  could  not  condemn  them- 
selves to  inferiority  in  intellectual  equipment.1  The 
Fathers  lamented  that  pagan  literature  was  the  only 
means  of  culture ;  yet  the  fact  remained.  And  cul- 
tured Christian  taste  recognized  the  unfitness  of  Chris- 
tian writings  for  use  as  models  in  the  place  of  Cicero 
and  Virgil.  Even  Tertullian  had  to  admit  the  neces- 
sity of  studying  pagan  literature,2  yet  he  would  forbid 

1  Cf .  Augustine,  De  doctrina  Christiana,  IV,  2,  3. 

2  See,  e.g.,  De  Idolatria,  10.  An  interesting  account  of  modes  of 
education  in  the  Roman  Empire,  and  of  Christian  difficulties  in  this 
regard,  is  given  .in  Boissier,  Fin  du  Paganisme,  Vol.  I,  Livres  2 
and  3. 


vi]  PHILOSOPHY   AND  DOGMA  109 

Christians  teaching  it  in  public  schools  when  that  in- 
volved recognition  of  the  imperial  religion.  But  the 
Church  refused  to  follow  him,  and  subsequently  none  of 
Julian's  covert  attempts  against  Christianity  aroused 
more  anger  than  his  edict  prohibiting  Christian  pro- 
fessors from  teaching  the  classics. 

Yet  there  always  remained  qualms  which  disturbed 
cultured  Christians  just  because  they  felt  how  dear  to 
them  was  all  the  beautiful  pagan  literature,  the  friend 
and  educator  of  their  youth.  Augustine  was  troubled ; 
but  his  disquietude  was  slight  compared  with  the  sense 
of  sinfulness  which  love  of  the  classics  roused  in 
Jerome.  Never  could  he  forget  them,  never  could  he 
cease  to  love  them.  But  what  concord  has  Christ  with 
Belial  ?  What  has  Horace  to  do  with  the  Psalter, 
Virgil  with  the  Gospels,  Cicero  with  Paul  ?  And  Je- 
rome tells  the  dream  of  his  stung  conscience,  how, 
appearing  before  the  judgment  seat  of  Christ,  he  heard 
the  words,  "  Thou  a  Christian !  Thou  art  a  Ciceronian ! 
Where  the  heart  is,  there  is  its  treasure." l 

Likewise  with  Greek  philosophy.  In  spite  of  the 
early  Christian  distrust  of  it,2  the  tendency  to  reason 
and  define,  and  the  necessity  of  reasoning  in  ways 
known  to  the  reasoners,  was  sure  to  bring  philosophy 
into  the  church.  The  attitude  of  individual  Christians 
depended  largely  on  temperament  and  race  and  on 
the  influences  under  which  they  had  been  educated. 
There  would  be  difference  here  between  the  East  and 
West,  the  Greek  and  Roman.     For  the  Hellenic  mind 

1  Jerome,  Epist.  XXII  ad  Eustochium,  Par.  29,  30.  Jerome's 
dream  deeply  impressed  the  Middle  Ages. 

2  As  with  Paul,  1  Cor.  et  seq.  and  Col.  ii.  18. 


110  THE   CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

could  never  cease  to  philosophize  and  confide  itself  to 
philosophy,  while  the  Roman  temper  was  less  curious 
and  was  averse  to  speculation.  The  Roman-minded, 
legally  educated  Tertullian  is  an  example  of  the  Roman 
temperament.  To  him  philosophy  is  a  source  of  her- 
esies and  a  rash  interpreter  of  the  nature  and  ways 
of  God.  "  What  in  common  have  Athens  and  Jeru- 
salem? The  Academy  and  the  Church?  Heretics 
and  Christians?  Let  them  see  to  it  who  teach  a 
stoical  and  Platonic  and  dialectic  Christianity !  We 
find  no  need  of  curiosity  reaching  beyond  Christ 
Jesus,  nor  of  inquiry  beyond  the  gospel.  When  we 
believe,  we  need  nothing  further  than  to  believe. 
Search  that  you  may  believe ;  then  stop."  l 

Somewhat  on  the  other  side  is  Justin,  who  often 
speaks  of  Christianity  as  a  philosophy,  and  realizes 
that  through  Platonism  he  reached  Christian  truth.2 
But  more  explicitly  the  Alexandrians,  Clement  and 
Origen,  intrenched  their  Christianity  in  philosophy, 
and  apprehended  it  in  modes  of  Platonic  thought. 
With  them  Christianity  is  the  culmination  of  philoso- 
phy, and  includes  all  truth;  philosophy  is  the  pre- 
paratory study.  Clement  devotes  the  opening  chapter 
of  his  Stromata  to  the  vindication  of  this  position : 
"Before  the  advent  of  Christianity,"  says  he,  "phi- 
losophy was  needful  to  the  Greeks  for  righteousness 
(SiKcuoavvrj).  Kow  it  is  useful  to  piety  for  those  who 
attain  faith  through  demonstration.  Philosophy  was 
a  schoolmaster  to  the  Greeks,  as  the  law  was  to  the 

1  Tertullian,  De  Praescriptionibns  adversus  Hereticos,  VII,  x. 
See  also  Irenseus,  Contra  Haer.,  II,  26,  27. 
3  Trypho,  II,  etc. 


vi]  PHILOSOPHY  AND  DOGMA  111 

Hebrews,  preparing  the  way  for  those  who  are  per- 
fected by  Christ." l  The  one  and  only  God  was 
known  by  the  Greeks  in  a  Gentile  way,  by  the  Jews 
Judaistically,  but  is  known  to  us  Christians  in  a  new 
and  spiritual  way.  The  God  who  gave  both  covenants, 
gave  Greek  philosophy.2  Likewise  with  Origen  Chris- 
tianity is  the  sum  of  knowledge ;  his  life's  endeavor 
was  to  bring  all  knowledge  into  the  scheme  of  salva- 
tion through  Christ.  u  If  we  see  some  admirable 
work  of  human  art,  we  are  at  once  eager  to  investi- 
gate the  nature,  the  manner,  the  end  of  its  produc- 
tion; and  the  contemplation  of  the  works  of  God  stirs 
us  with  an  incomparably  greater  longing  to  learn  the 
principles,  the  method,  the  purpose  of  creation.  This 
desire,  this  passion,  has  without  doubt  been  implanted 
in  us  by  God.  And  as  the  eye  seeks  light,  as  our 
body  craves  food,  so  our  mind  is  impressed  with  the 
characteristic  and  natural  desire  of  knowing  the  truth 
of  God  and  the  causes  of  what  we  observe."  3 

Gregory  Thaumaturgus,  in  his  panegyric  on  his  mas- 
ter, says  that  Origen,  wishing  to  gain  him  and  others 
as  pupils,  praised  the  lovers  of  philosophy,  declaring 
that  only  those  live  a  life  worthy  of  reasonable  crea- 
tures who  aim  at  living  an  upright  life,  and  seek  to 
know  first  themselves,  and  then  what  is  good  and 
what  man  ought  to  strive  for,  and  what  is  evil  and 
what  man  ought  to  flee.  Thus  he  reproved  ignorance. 
He  asserted  that  there  could  be  no  genuine  piety 
toward  God  in  the  man  who   despised   the   gift   of 

1  Stromata,  I,  5.    See  the  rest  of  this  interesting  passage. 

2  Strom.,  VI,  5. 

8  Origen,  Be  Pruicipiis,  II,  11,  4,  Westcott's  translation. 


112  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

philosophy;  that  no  one  could  be  truly  pious  who  did 
not  philosophize.  But  beyond  this,  Origen's  benevo- 
lent mind  inspired  us  with  the  love  of  the  Word  and 
of  our  teacher  himself.  Afterwards  he  assailed  us  in 
the  Socratic  fashion,  purged  us  by  argumentations, 
then  sowed  the  good  seed.  He  taught  us  also  physics, 
geometry,  and  astronomy,  and  ethics  not  only  by  word 
but  by  deed,  and  constrained  us  to  practise  righteous- 
ness. He  had  us  study  all  philosophers,  except  the 
atheists,  that  we  might  not  attribute  undue  importance 
to  one  doctrine  through  ignorance  of  the  rest.  But 
above  all  he  taught  us  to  devote  ourselves  to  the 
teaching  of  God  and  the  prophets  in  Scripture. 

Christianity  gave  to  Christian  students  of  philoso- 
phy a  definite  purpose  and  a  point  of  view.  Thus 
Origen  writes  to  Gregory :  "  Good  natural  parts  help 
one  toward  any  end,  and  yours  might  make  you  a 
good  Eoman  lawyer  or  a  Greek  philosopher.  But  I 
advise  you  to  use  the  strength  of  your  natural  parts 
with  Christianity  as  an  end  (tcAikws  ek  Xpia-riavtoyxov) 
and  to  seek  from  Greek  philosophy  what  may  serve 
as  preparation  for  Christianity,  and  from  geometry 
and  astronomy  what  may  serve  to  explain  the  Holy 
Scriptures,  so  that,  as  students  of  philosophy  speak  of 
geometry,  music,  grammar,  rhetoric,  and  astronomy  as 
fellow-helpers  to  philosophy,  we  may  speak  of  phi- 
losophy itself  in  relation  to  Christianity."  * 

Irenaeus  had  said :   "  True  knowledge,  yiwis  aXrjOrjs, 

which  is  opposed  to  the  fallacies  of  the  Gnostics,  is 

the  doctrine  of  the  apostles,  the  constitution  of  the 

Church  according  to  the  succession  of  bishops,  and 

1  Epistola  ad  GregoHum. 


vi]  PHILOSOPHY  AND  DOGMA  113 

its  exposition  of  the  Scriptures  unfalsified  by  forg- 
eries, but  read  plainly  and  in  the  gift  of  love  (munus 
delectionis)." l  This  statement  might  seem  to  Clement 
and  Origen  to  beg  the  real  question :  What  is  the  doc- 
trine of  the  apostles  ?  How  shall  it  be  understood  and 
stated  ?  To  an  understanding  of  the  Gospel  as  con- 
tained in  the  Scriptures,  that  is  to  say,  to  the  ascer- 
tainment and  statement  of  the  true  Christian  yvwo-is, 
a  training  in  preparatory  modes  of  knowledge,  i.e.  in 
Greek  philosophy,  was  essential.2  If  so,  the  unlearned 
could  not  have  knowledge  of  Christianity.  Clement 
and  Origen  recognized  two  classes  of  Christians,  those 
who  had  simple  faith,  and  those  who  with  fuller 
knowledge  were  the  true  knowers,  yvoKm/cot'.3  The 
first,  however,  had  the  saving  faith,  which  must  also 
underlie  the  further  perfections  of  the  latter.4  Indeed, 
Clement  would  trace  all  demonstration  back  to  its 
basis  in  undemonstrable  faith.5  Nevertheless  the 
view  of  gnosis  as  higher  than  faith  tended  to  destroy 
the  unity  of  the  Christian  ideal  of  life,  which  is  faith, 
love,  and  knowledge  of  the  truth,  and  also  to  break 
the  unity  of  the  saving  work  of  Christ.  Says  Origen : 
"The  Eedeemer  becomes  many  things,  perhaps  even 
all  things,  according  to  the  necessities  of  the  whole 
creation  capable  of  being  redeemed  by  him.  .  .  . 
Happy  are  they  who  have  advanced  so  far  as  to  need 
the  Son  of  God  no  longer  as  a  healing  physician,  no 

1  Irenaeus,  Contra  Haer.,  IV,  xxxiii,  8. 
*  Clement,  Strom.,  I,  7,  8,  9. 

8  These  true  yvtaanKoC  are  not  to  be  confused  with  the  Gnostics. 
4  Strom.,  II,  12;  IV,  21,  22,  etc.;  V,  1,  13.    Cf.  Bigg,  Christian 
Platonists  of  Alexandria,  p.  84,  etc. 

s  Strom.,  VIII,  3.    See  Strom.,  II,  2,  4,  6. 
I 


114  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

longer  as  a  shepherd,  no  longer  as  the  Kedemption ; 
but  who  need  him  only  as  the  Truth,  the  Word,  the 
Sanctification,  and  in  whatever  other  relation  he 
stands  to  those  whose  maturity  enables  them  to  com- 
prehend what  is  most  glorious  in  his  character."  1 

From  a  consideration  of  the  necessity  of  philosophy 
to  a  complete  understanding  of  Christianity,  Clement 
often  passes  to  the  inculcation  of  some  definite  philo- 
sophical doctrine,  and  introduces  it  into  his  Christian 
system.2  For  example,  the  readiness  coming  from  pre- 
vious training  helps  in  the  perception  of  essential  mat- 
ters. Demonstrations  secure  faith,  so  that  the  learner 
cannot  conceive  of  what  is  demonstrated  as  being  dif- 
ferent. In  such  studies  the  soul  is  purged  of  sensible 
things  and  enabled  to  perceive  the  truth;  without 
letters,  a  man  may  be  a  believer  (ttio-to?),  but  cannot 
understand  the  faith.3  Here  a  thought  foreign  to 
Christianity  is  introduced  from  Greek  philosophy, 
that  by  speculation  the  mind  is  purged  of  attachments 
to  things  of  sense.  Again  he  says :  Abstraction  from 
the  body  and  its  passions  is  the  sacrifice  acceptable  to 
God.  If,  making  such  abstraction,  we  cast  ourselves 
into  the  greatness  of  Christ,  and  then  advance  into 
immunity  by  holiness,  we  may  reach  toward  some 
conception  of  what  God  is.4  The  Saviour  Himself  said, 
"  Watch  M ;  which  is  to  say,  study  how  to  live,  and  en- 
deavor to  separate  the  soul  from  the  body.5     Christ 

1  Origen  in  Joann.,  T.  I,  Sec.  22  (from  Neander)  ;  Migne,  Pat. 
Gr.,14,  col.  56. 

2  Clement  was  himself  an  influence  affecting  Plotinus'  Neo- 
platonism.  3  Stroin.,  I,  6.  4  Strom.,  V,  12. 

5  Strom.,  V,  14.  Clement  elsewhere  says  that  the  Logos  (Christ) 
cures  the  passions  of  the  soul. 


vi]  PHILOSOPHY   AND  DOGMA  115 

was  completely  aTraOrjs  (passionless,  without  suffering, 
unmoved,  insensible).  The  true  yvaxrriKo?  is  free  from 
emotion  and  passion ;  he  is  not  courageous,  because  he 
fears  nothing,  and  nothing  can  sever  him  from  his  love 
of  God ;  he  has  no  common  affections,  but  loves  the 
Creator  in  His  creations.1  Thus  Clement's  philosophy 
causes  him  to  apply  the  term  airaOrjs  to  Him  who  was 
moved  to  indignation,  who  wept  at  Lazarus'  grave, 
whose  soul  was  exceeding  sorrowful  in  Gethsemane. 

The  Alexandrians  approached  the  gospel  through 
philosophy.  Whatever  their  shortcomings,  they  pre- 
sented the  thought  to  the  Christian  world,  that  Christ's 
gospel  was  the  sum  of  knowledge,  and  all  true  knowl- 
edge could  not  but  conduce  to  a  fuller  understanding 
of  it.  This  principle  was  recognized  by  Augustine. 
More  strongly  than  Clement  or  Origen,  he  felt  the 
limitations  of  human  rational  cognition ; 2  while  he, 
as  well  as  they,  saw  that  whatever  human  knowledge 
might  comprehend  could  be  included  in  the  compass 
of  Christ's  revelation.  Augustine  had  found  in  his 
own  case  that  reason  did  not  reach  to  the  proving  of 
the  truth  of  Christ,  and  in  the  end  he  believed  through 
faith.  But  it  was  along  the  paths  of  human  knowl- 
edge, in  libris  saecularis  sapientiae,  that  he  had 
approached  Christianity.3  He  had  been  a  lover  of 
wisdom,  a  philosopher;  now  he  raised  his  love  toward 
wisdom's  self :    "  If  God  through  whom  all  things  are 

i  Stro?n.,VI,  9. 

2  For  example,  he  says,  Confessions,  IV,  29,  that  he  had  found 
little  help  to  the  understanding  of  God  from  studying  Aristotle's 
Ten  Categories  ;  for  within  them  one  cannot  conceive  God. 

8  See  Confessions,  V,  6,  8,  9. 


116  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

made  is  Wisdom,  as  the  divine  truth  declares,  the  true 
philosopher  is  a  lover  of  God."1  Augustine's  Chris- 
tianity does  not  exclude  profane  knowledge,  rather 
has  scope  for  all  knowledge.  But  woe  unto  that 
knowledge,  or  seeming  knowledge,  which  leads  from 
knowing  God :  "  Wretched  that  man  who  knows  all 
philosophies,  and  knows  not  Thee ;  blessed  is  he  who 
knows  Thee,  though  ignorant  of  all  those  matters."  2 

The  apostolic  period  was  scarcely  passed  when  the 
need  came  upon  the  Christian  communities  to  define 
their  faith  in  terms  suited  to  the  understandings  of 
the  multitude  of  intelligent  men  who  were,  or  might 
become,  Christians.  This  involved  a  formulation  of 
its  teachings  in  prevalent  ways  of  thinking.  Such  a 
formulation  was  in  itself  a  process  of  reasoning;  it 
proceeded  from  the  needs  of  man  as  a  being  who  must 
reason  and  apprehend  through  reason;  it  involved  a 
statement  of  the  grounds  of  its  own  validity ;  it  was 
stimulated  and  forced  onward  by  the  necessity  of 
sustaining  the  gospel  against  pagan  arguments  and  of 
suppressing  religious  error  among  Christians. 

Men  can  reason  only  with  the  knowledge  and  con- 
ceptions they  possess.  Hellenic  philosophy  held  the 
sum  of  knowledge  in  the  Empire,  in  the  Latin  West 
as  well  as  the  Hellenic  East.  From  no  other  source 
could  come  the  elements  of  knowledge  constituting  the 
categories  of  rational  apprehension  in  which  Chris- 
tianity could  be  formulated.  There  was,  however, 
another  terminology  wherein  men  might  reason,  which 
had  its  basis  in  the  Roman  temperament  and  its  chief 

i  Civ.  Dei,  VIII,  1;  citing  "  Wisdom,"  vii.  24-27;  Heb.  i.  2,  3. 
2  Confessions,  V,  7;  cf.  ib.,  X,  54-57. 


vi]  PHILOSOPHY  AND  DOGMA  117 

expression  in  the  Eoman  law.  Accordingly,  in  the 
formulation  of  Christian  teachings  the  substantial 
knowledge  and  rational  basis  was  of  necessity  Greek 
philosophy,  while  the  methods  of  reasoning  might  be 
those  of  philosophy  or  consist  of  the  terminology  and 
conceptions  of  the  Eoman  law.  The  choice  of  Chris- 
tian theologians  would  be  determined  by  their  nation- 
ality and  education,  and  by  the  language  which  they 
used ;  the  Latin  temperament,  education,  and  language 
being  rather  legal  than  philosophical,  the  Greek  being 
the  reverse. 

Although  Greek  philosophy  alone  could  furnish 
knowledge,  the  fact  that  Eoman  ethical  conceptions 
were  fundamentally  legal  influenced  the  mode  in 
which  Christianity  was  apprehended  by  the  Eoman 
mind.  There  were  analogies  between  Eoman  and 
Hebrew  ways  of  conceiving  justice  and  righteousness. 
Both  races  had  a  strong  sense  of  the  responsibility 
which  rises  from  covenant,  a  sense  of  the  absolute 
obligation  of  persons  to  fulfil  their  solemn  promises. 
Among  the  Hebrews,  righteousness  and  justice  had 
their  source  in  the  archetypal  covenant  between  Jeho- 
vah and  Israel,  and  Hebrew  ethical  conceptions  pro- 
gressed along  the  lines  of  its  requirements.  Through 
his  part  in  the  covenant  with  Jehovah  the  Hebrew 
owed  his  duties  to  his  brethren.  With  Paul  righteous- 
ness is  still  primarily  a  quality  which  justifies  man 
before  God.  The  Eomans  saw  the  matter  directly 
from  the  side  of  covenant  relations  between  citizens; 
yet  these  depended  on  the  State's  superior  power, 
and  the  Eoman  legal  sanctio  was  connected  with  fear 
of   divine   vengeance,    and   so   was   partly   religious. 


118  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

Roman  conceptions  of  justice  and  right  kept  their 
legal  form  because  the  sense  of  legal  responsibility 
made  up  so  much  of  the  Roman  temperament.  Ter- 
tullian's  writings  are  an  example.  He  had  been  a 
lawyer,  and  his  legal  education  gave  him  command 
over  a  terminology  suited  to  express  juristic  thoughts 
of  righteousness  and  religion.  But  the  cause  of  his 
legal  modes  of  reasoning  lay  deeper;  for,  beneath 
his  education,  he  was  a  Latin,  a  Roman-minded  man, 
like  Augustine,  who  also  reasons  juridically  although 
his  education  was  chiefly  in  rhetoric  and  philosophy. 
On  the  other  hand,  legal  conceptions  were  absent 
from  Greek  thoughts  of  right  and  justice;  for  the 
Greeks  reached  their  ethical  conceptions  in  part 
through  philosophical  speculation  as  to  the  universe 
and  man  and  God,  matter  and  mind,  and  in  part 
through  their  sense  and  understanding  of  the  beau- 
tiful, that  is,  through  the  aesthetic  and  artistic  side 
of  their  nature,  which  sought  everywhere  harmony, 
fitness,  and  proportion.  So  the  Greek  would  formulate 
Christian  doctrine  in  terms  of  cosmological  specula- 
tion and  of  the  beautiful  and  fit;  while  the  Roman 
would  proceed  rather  with  juristic  thoughts,  yet  would 
have  to  take  the  data  of  his  knowledge  from  Greek 
philosophy.  The  Roman  legal  spirit,  as  well  as  Greek 
philosophy,  sought  to  define,  and  so  was  part  of  the 
general  tendency  to  dogmatize  the  Christian  faith. 
But  in  that  great  process  of  formulation,  ending  say 
in  the  Council  of  Chalcedon  (451  a.d.),  Greek  philoso- 
phy was  the  overwhelmingly  important  factor,  not 
only  because  it  furnished  the  elements  of  knowledge, 
but  because  the  majority  of   early  Christian  theolo- 


vi]  PHILOSOPHY   AND  DOGMA  119 

gians  were  Hellenic  in  spirit  and  wrote  Greek ;  while 
the  Latin  Fathers  reset  in  Latin  and  juristic  phrase 
the  definitions  which  the  East  had  evolved.  An  illus- 
tration is  afforded  by  the  Latin  juristic  word  persona, 
which  represents  —  it  does  not  translate  —  the  Greek 
word  v-rrooTTacn^.  The  Latins  had  to  render  the  three 
vTToo-rao-as  of  the  Greeks;  and  "three  somethings/' 
tria  quaedam,  was  too  loose,  as  Augustine  says. 
Hence,  the  legal  word  persona  was  employed,  al- 
though its  unfitness  was  recognized.1  Of  course 
it  received  new  meaning  from  its  use  in  the  Creed. 
The  loose  beliefs  of  paganism  felt  no  need  to 
formulate  themselves,  except  externally  in  cults.  But 
Greek  philosophy  from  its  beginning  was  formulation 
of  knowledge  and  opinion,  and  might  discard  what- 
ever religious  belief  it  deviated  from.  Christ's  gos- 
pel was  definite  revelation;  the  Christian  faith  was 
too  strong  to  surrender  its  elements  whenever  they 
seemed  inconsistent  with  the  knowledge  of  the  time. 
It  could  only  advance  to  further  definiteness,  using 
human  knowledge  and  reason  to  promote  and  sub- 
stantiate definitions  of  itself.  Unquestionably  the 
Catholic  formulation  operated  to  preserve  Christian- 
ity  from   errors   and   corruptions ; 2  and  if  it  veiled, 

1  See  Augustine,  De  Trin.,  VII,  Sec.  7-12.  vir6<rra<T^,  literally,  is 
substantia,  the  word  used  by  the  Latins  to  represent  the  Greek 
oxxrta,  of  which  the  equivalent  would  have  been  essentia,  had  that 
word  been  in  use. 

2  Athanasius  shows  how  Arianism  tended  to  pagan  polytheism  ; 
see,  e.g.,  Discourses  against  the  Arians,  III,  xxv,  16.  There  was 
pagan  pride,  as  well  as  Gnostic  tendencies,  in  Arianism;  see,  e.g., 
the  Fragments  of  Arius'  Thalia,  and  cf.  Athanasius,  Discourses, 
etc.,  II,  xvii,  24-26. 


120  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

it  did  not  exclude  the  realities  of  Christ's  gospel. 
Through  the  storm  of  his  life,  Athanasius  stood  on 
the  rock  of  the  reality  of  the  salvation  which  Christ 
brought  mankind.1 

Nevertheless,  the  formulation  of  Christianity  in 
dogma  was  Hellenic  and  metaphysical,  and  a  depar- 
ture alike  from  the  Hebraic  spirit  of  the  Old  Testa- 
ment and  from  the  nature  of  Jesus'  teachings.  If  we 
follow  the  gradual  revelation  in  the  Old  Testament  of 
Jehovah  as  a  great  personality  with  a  definite  charac- 
ter, and  if  we  then  pass  to  the  synoptic  gospels,  and 
see  how  Jesus  sets  forth,  phase  by  phase,  the  relation- 
ship of  God  to  man,  the  loving  ways  of  God  the  Fa- 
ther, and  finally,  if  we  observe  in  the  fourth  gospel 
how  in  modes  deeply  analogous  to  his  way  in  the  sy- 
noptics, Jesus  sets  forth  teachings  which  pass  man's 
understanding,  yet  are  real  to  the  mind  and  give  to 
the  heart's  realities  a  further  range,  then  we  shall  find 
throughout  a  common  trait,  the  absence  of  definition 
and  formulation  —  the  absence  of  any  formulation  of 
what,  when  formulated,  the  human  mind  cannot  grasp 
and  realize.2 

1  Athanasius,  in  his  Discourses  against  the  Avians  and  other 
writings  (see,  e.g.,  De  Incarnatione  Verbi  Dei) ,  founds  his  Christol- 
ogy  on  his  Soteriology ;  i.e.  on  the  principle  that  Christ  must  have 
been  God  to  effect  a  real  reconciliation  between  men  and  God  —  to 
be  a  Redeemer.  See  also  Harnack,  Dogmengeschichte,  II  (2d  Ed.), 
p.  157,  etc. 

2  It  would  be  interesting  to  point  out  how  the  formulation  of 
belief,  when  pushed  beyond  the  range  of  man's  inner  experience 
and  external  observation,  becomes  unreal,  and  in  becoming  unreal 
tends  to  evoke  formalism  complemented  by  superstition.  Chris- 
tianity has  been  affected  by  two  apparently  opposite  kinds  of  super- 
stition, which  nevertheless  present  analogies,  and  are  not  unrelated 


vi]  PHILOSOPHY  AND  DOGMA  121 

The  preceding  remarks  upon  the  formulation  of  the 
Christian  faith  apply  primarily  to  the  Eastern  or  Hell- 
enic portion  of  the  process,  which  was  mainly  con- 
cerned with  the  divine  metaphysics  of  Christianity, 
that  is,  with  denning  the  nature  of  Christ.  The  Latin 
West  approved  the  results  of  this  formulation,  but  for 
its  own  part,  caring  less  for  metaphysics  than  for  life, 
it  felt  itself  more  earnestly  concerned  with  the  sinful- 
ness of  man  and  the  relation  of  the  human  will  to 
God's  grace  and  foreknowledge.  Here  the  moulder  of 
men's  thoughts  was  Augustine.1 

In  the  formulation  of  dogma,  Greek  philosophy 
passes  into  Christianity.     Although  the  course  of  this 

in  source.  The  one  regards  the  magic-mystical  effect  of  the  out- 
ward act,  eating  of  bread,  or  baptism,  or  penance  done  —  a  supersti- 
tion opposed  to  the  spiritual  regeneration  set  forth  by  Christ.  The 
other  attaches  a  quasi-magical  efficiency  to  the  mind's  accurate 
acceptance  and  the  mouth's  correct  enunciation  of  metaphysical 
propositions.  Its  source  lay  in  the  process,  if  not  in  the  spirit,  of 
doctrinal  formulation.  Equally  with  the  first  error,  it  ignores  the 
actual  condition  and  the  needful  spiritual  regeneration  of  the  soul. 
Moreover,  the  dogmatic  definition  of  Christ's  nature  tended  to  lift 
him  above  the  people's  hearts,  and  caused  them  to  set  between  them- 
selves and  the  heartless  Christ  the  interceding  mother-love  of  Mary 
and  the  mediatorship  of  all  the  saints. 

1  Whatever  one  may  think  of  these  Pauline-Augustinian  ques- 
tions, it  must  be  admitted  that  as  Nicene  formulation  held  fast  to 
the  reality  of  Christ's  mediating  salvation,  so  Augustine's  reason- 
ing held  fast  to  man's  need  thereof  ;  while  Pelagianism  threatened 
man's  need  of  Christ,  just  as  Arianism  threatened  the  reality 
of  Christ's  redeeming  function.  Such  views  as  Augustine's, 
dark  as  they  were,  promoted  among  higher  minds  the  passionate 
love  of  Christ,  of  God ;  and  perhaps  promoted  also  devotion  to 
all  the  mediating  means  and  instruments  —  saints,  martyrs, 
Virgin  Mary,  and  the  rest  —  by  which  the  lowering  intelligence 
of  man  was  for  some  centuries  to  link  itself  to  the  Kingdom  of 
Heaven. 


122  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

formulation  lay  largely  in  progressive  disclaimer  and 
condemnation  of  opinions  pronounced  erroneous,  it 
was  also  a  creative  process  resulting  in  the  establish- 
ment of  original  propositions.  Besides  eclectically 
modified  Stoicism,  the  Greek  system  chiefly  used  in 
this  formulation  was  Xeo-platonisin,  the  dominant 
pagan  philosophy  in  the  fourth  century.  Dogma  grew 
from  Hellenic  reasoning  upon  gospel  data,  and  was  it- 
self in  turn  to  form  the  subject  of  further  processes  of 
reasoning  based  on  Greek  philosophy.  After  its  first 
and  creative  Christian  career,  Greek  philosophy,  from 
the  ninth  century  onward,  rims  its  second  Christian 
course  in  scholasticism.  With  the  schoolmen,  philos- 
ophy was  not  to  be  entirely  uncreative ;  yet  was  chiefly 
to  consist  in  a  systematizing  of  dogma  and  a  new 
endeavor  to  place  it  upon  a  basis  of  reason  and  knowl- 
edge. The  Greek  system  employed  was  Aristotelian- 
ism,  a  philosophy  in  its  nature  more  systematizing 
and  less  creative  than  Platonism. 

During  the  first  Christian  career  of  Greek  philoso- 
phy the  classic  sources  were  open  to  the  Christian 
world,  which,  however,  made  chief  use  of  those  closest 
to  Christianity  in  spirit  and  in  time.  For  the  second 
Christian  career  of  Greek  philosophy  the  sources  had 
to  be  gradually  redisclosed.  Boethius'  Aristotelian 
translations1  represent  the  knowledge  of  Greek  philos- 
ophy in  the  West  in  the  seventh  and  eighth  centuries. 
In  the  ninth,  the  first  great  schoolman,  John  Scotus 
Erigena,  translated  the  works  of  Dionysius  the  Are- 
opagite,  and  in  the  centuries  following  the  tenth  there 
gradually  came  a  larger  knowledge  of  Aristotle,  till 

1  See  ante,  Chap.  IV. 


vi]  BEAUTY  AND  LOVE  123 

by  the  thirteenth  his  works  were  fully  known : l  pre- 
cursor Christi  in  naturalibus  sicut  Joannes  Baptista  in 
gratuitis. 

II.   Beauty  and  Love 

As  the  Christians  abominated  the  idols  of  the 
heathen,  it  was  natural  that  their  aversion  should 
extend  to  all  images.2  Moreover,  such  beauty  as  com- 
monly was  sought  by  the  plastic  art  of  the  Empire 
was  meretricious  in  the  eyes  of  Christians 3  who  some- 
times refer  to  it  in  order  to  illustrate  by  contrast  their 
own  conceptions  of  true  beauty.  An  early  trend  of 
Christian  thought  is  seen  in  the  common  application 
to  Christ's  person  of  Isaiah's  words,  "  He  hath  no 
form  or  comeliness.7'4  For  Christians  the  beauty  of 
the  body  consisted  in  those  physical  qualities  which 
suggested  moral  or  spiritual  qualities  according  with 

1  Cf.  Erdmann,  Hist,  etc.,  I,  §§  133,  146,  153,  191,  192,  203,  205; 
TJberweg,  History  of  Philosophy ,  I,  pp.  260  et  seq. ;  Maurice,  Mediae- 
val Philosophy  ;  Haureau,  Histoire  de  la  philosophie  scholastique ; 
Jourdain,  Recherches  critiques  sur  Vage  et  langue  des  traductions 
latines  d'Aristote  (1843)  ;  L.  Stein,  "Das  Princip  der  Entwickelimg 
in  der  Geistesgeschichte,"  Deutsche  Rundschau,  June,  1895;  ib., 
''Das  Erste  Aufstanden  der  Griech.  Phil,  unter  den  Arabern," 
Archiv  fur  Gesch.  der  Philos.,  Bd.  VII,  p.  351  (1894),  and  ib.,  in 
Archiv,  etc.,  Bd.  IX,  p.  225  (1896). 

2  See,  e.g.,  Origen,  Contra  Celsum,  IV,  31 ;  Tertullian,  De  Idola- 
tria,  passim. 

3  On  the  other  hand,  it  was  an  age  when  pictorial  decoration  was 
a  matter  of  course.  This  habit  the  Christians  generally  continued, 
as  is  shown  by  the  well-known  Christian  house  on  the  Aventine 
and  the  earliest  catacombs.    See  post,  p.  316. 

4  Yet  many  Fathers  maintained  that  Jesus  was  noble  and  beauti- 
ful in  person. 


124  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

the  Christian  ideal.1  Says  Clement  of  Alexandria: 
He  who  in  chaste  love  (ayair-qv  ayvrjv)  looks  on  beauty, 
thinks  not  that  the  flesh  is  beautiful,  but  the  spirit, 
admiring  the  body  as  a  statue  (avhpiavra)  through 
whose  beauty  he  transports  himself  to  the  artist  and 
the  true  beauty.2 

Augustine's  early  manhood  is  known  to  all.  Too 
passionately  had  he  loved  the  beauty  of  the  flesh ;  yet 
it  was  beauty  that  he  loved,  and  would  be  often  saying 
to  his  friends,  "Num  amamus aliquid  nisi pulchrum ?"3 
"  But  I  saw  not  yet  the  essential  matter  in  thy  art, 
Almighty  One,  who  alone  makest  marvellous  things ; 
and  my  soul  was  travelling  through  corporeal  forms ; 
and  I  was  defining  and  distinguishing  what  was  beau- 
tiful in  itself,  what  was  fit,  and  what  should  be  adapted 
to  something;  and  I  was  finding  corporeal  illustra- 
tions. Also  I  turned  to  the  nature  of  the  soul ;  and 
the  false  view  I  held  of  things  spiritual  did  not  per- 
mit me  to  perceive  the  truth."4  But  as  Augustine 
found  his  way  more  surely  to  Christianity,  these 
thoughts  changed  with  him,  till  he  knew  that  outward 

1  Clement  praises  a  spiritual  beauty,  rather  than  any  beauty  of 
an  embellished  body.  The  true  beauty  is  of  that  man  with  whom 
dwells  the  Word ;  for  he  then  has  the  form  of  the  Word,  and  is 
made  like  God  ;  and  another  beauty  of  men  is  love.  Love  vaunteth 
not  itself,  seeketh  not  what  is  not  its  own  and  God's,  so  does  not 
behave  itself  unseemly ;  all  of  which  would  be  opposed  to  the  true 
spiritual  beauty,  as  of  Christ,  who  had  neither  form  nor  comeliness. 
—  Paedagogus,  III,  1.  Ambrose  says,  speaking  of  the  Virgin :  "  ut 
ipsa  corporis  species  simulacrum  fuerit  mentis,  figura  probitatis," 
De  Virginibus,  II,  2;  Migne,  Patr.  Lat.f  16,  col.  209. 

2  Strom.,  IV,  18. 

8  Confessions,  IV,  20.  At  the  age  of  twenty-seven  he  wrote  the 
De  Pulchro  et  Apto. 

4  Confessions,  IV,  Sec.  24.    The  Latin  is  somewhat  obscure. 


ti]  BEAUTY   AND  LOVE  125 

beauties  were  but  human  fashionings  of  the  beauty 
whence  they  come,  for  which  his  soul  now  yearns  day 
and  night.1 

Of  all  philosophies,  Platonism  seemed  to  Augustine 
nearest  to  Christian  truth.2  But  Platonism  as  he 
understood  it  was  largely  Neo-platonism.  Gregory  of 
Nyssa,  however,  is  an  interesting  example  of  a  Chris- 
tian Father  taking  thoughts  of  beauty  directly  from 
Plato,  and  endeavoring  to  give  them  Christian  hue. 
In  his  treatise  on  "  Virginity  "  he  argues  that  the  only 
way  to  escape  the  bondage  of  low  desire  is  to  turn  one's 
life  to  the  contemplation  of  the  Father  of  all  beauty, 
and  so  beautify  the  lines  of  one's  own  character  from 
imitation  of  the  source  of  beauty ;  herein  is  virginity 
a  helper.  What  words  can  express  the  greatness  of 
the  loss  in  falling  away  from  real  goodness  ?  If  a  man 
has  kept  the  eye  of  his  heart  so  clear  that  he  can  in 
a  way  behold  the  promise  of  our  Lord's  beatitudes 
realized,  he  will  condemn  all  human  utterance  as 
powerless  to  express  what  he  has  apprehended.  But 
when  passion  like  a  film  has  spread  over  the  clear 
vision  of  the  soul,  expression  is  wasted  on  that  man ; 

1  Confessions,  X,  Sec.  53.  From  his  rhetorical  occupations 
Augustine  evolves  an  extraordinary  argument  as  to  the  ways  of 
God :  God  would  have  made  no  man  or  angel  whom  He  foreknew 
would  be  evil  had  He  not  known  that  that  being  would  be  of  use 
for  good.  Thus  would  God  embellish  the  succession  of  the  ages  as 
a  beautiful  poem  (carmen),  by  antithesis,  as  it  were:  Antitheta 
enim  quae  appellantur  in  ornamentis  elocutionis  sunt  decentissinia, 
quae  latine  appellantur  opposita.  .  .  .  Sicut  ergo  ista  contraria 
contrariis  opposita  sermonis  pulchritudinem  reddunt ;  ita  quadam, 
non  verborum,  sed  rerum  eloquentia  contrariorum  oppositione 
saeculi  pulchritudo  componitur.     Civ.  Dei,  XI,  18. 

2  See,  e.g.,  Civ.  Dei,  VIII,  5. 


126  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

he  cannot  perceive,  as  one  born  blind  cannot  see  the 
splendor  of  sunlight.  To  see  the  beauty  of  the  true 
and  intellectual  light,  each  man  has  need  of  eyes  of 
his  own ;  and  he  who  by  gift  of  divine  inspiration  can 
see  it,  retains  his  ecstasy  unexpressed,  while  he  who 
sees  it  not  cannot  be  made  to  know  the  greatness  of 
his  loss.  How  should  he  ?  For  this  good  is  inexpres- 
sible, we  have  not  learned  the  language  to  tell  this 
beauty.  Well  may  one  exclaim  in  the  psalmist's  words, 
"  All  men  are  liars  !  "  not  because  hating  the  truth,  but 
because  of  human  feebleness  to  express  in  language  the 
ineffable  light.  How  can  language  tell  of  the  invisible 
and  formless  Beauty  which  is  destitute  of  qualities 
perceptible  to  sense  ?  Xot  that  we  are  to  despair  of 
winning  it,  but,  as  it  is  so  very  great,  we  must  lift  our 
thoughts,  fearful  of  losing  share  in  that  Good  which 
we  always  run  the  risk  of  losing  because  of  its  height 
and  mystery.  Yet  we  must  pass  to  the  unseen  Beauty 
by  means  of  data  of  sense.  One  with  clear  vision  sees 
that  visible  beauties  are  but  the  elements  on  which  the 
form1  of  beauty  works;  to  him  they  will  be  but  the 
ladder  by  which  he  climbs  to  the  prospect  of  that  in- 
tellectual Beauty  from  which  other  beauties  derive 
their  existence.  He  who  turns  from  all  grosser 
thoughts  and  longings  after  what  seems,  and  explores 
the  nature  of  beauty  which  is  simple,  immaterial,  and 
formless,  is  in  the  path  leading  to  its  discovery ;  he 
will  leave  behind  and  below  him  all  other  objects;  he 
will  lift  up  his  powers  to  heights  the  senses  cannot 
reach,  beyond  the  beauty  of  the  heavens,  to  the  Beauty 
whose  glory  the  heavens  and  firmament  declare  and 
1  The  Platonic  idea. 


vi]  BEAUTY  AND  LOVE  127 

whose  secret  the  whole  creation  sings.  To  this  he  can 
mount  only  by  the  self-made  image  of  the  Dove,  which 
is  the  Holy  Spirit,  within  himself.  With  this  alone 
may  the  mind  of  man  soar  above  this  murky  world  to 
the  true  Purity,  that  atmosphere  of  light,  where  the 
soul  itself  becomes  a  Light,  according  to  our  Lord's 
promise  that  the  righteous  shall  shine  forth  as  the  Sun. 
And  so  shall  we  become  as  the  Light  in  our  nearness 
to  Christ's  true  light,  if  the  true  Light  that  shineth 
in  the  darkness  comes  down  even  to  us,  unless  there 
is  any  foulness  of  sin  spreading  over  our  hearts. 
Thus  may  we  be  changed  to  something  better  than 
ourselves ;  and  this  union  of  the  soul  with  the  incor- 
ruptible deity  can  only  be  attained  by  her  reaching 
the  virgin  state  of  utmost  purity ;  a  state  which  being 
like  God  will  grasp  what  is  like,  while  she  places  her- 
self as  a  mirror  under  the  purity  of  God,  and  moulds 
her  own  beauty  at  the  touch  and  sight  of  all  beauty's 
archetype.  A  character  strong  enough  to  turn  from 
all  that  is  human,  will  feel  as  a  lover  only  toward  that 
Beauty  which  has  no  source  but  itself,  and  is  not 
beauty  relative  or  particular,  or  changing,  or  waxing, 
or  waning.  To  such  a  soul,  by  virtue  of  her  inno- 
cence, comes  the  power  of  apprehending  that  light. 
And  real  virginity  has  no  other  goal  than  the  power 
thereby  of  seeing  God,  the  only  absolute  and  primal 
Beauty  and  Goodness.1 

The  same  Platonic  Christian  elsewhere  says  that  the 
speculative  and  critical  faculty  is  the  property  of  the 
soul's  godlike  part,  for  by  this  we  grasp  the  deity  also. 

1  On  Virginity,  Chaps.  X,  XI.  Cf.  Plato,  Phaedrus  and  Sym- 
posium. 


128  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

When  the  soul  by  purgation  becomes  free  from  emo- 
tional relation  to  the  brute  creation,  there  will  be 
nothing  to  impede  its  contemplation  of  the  beautiful. 
The  only  habit  of  the  soul,  which  will  remain,  is  love ; 
and  that  clings  by  natural  affinity  to  beauty.  "  The 
life  of  the  Supreme  Being  is  love,  seeing  that  the 
Beautiful  is  necessarily  lovable  to  those  who  recog- 
nize it,  and  the  Deity  does  recognize  it,  and  so  this 
recognition  becomes  love,  that  which  he  recognizes 
being  essentially  beautiful.  The  insolence  of  satiety 
cannot  touch  this  true  Beauty."  l  This  is  Platonism 
set  in  Christian  phrase. 

Augustine's  yearning  for  the  beauty  of  God,  and 
Gregory  of  Nyssa's  adaptation  of  Plato's  fantasy 
which  held  so  much  ideal  reality,  accord  with  much 
of  the  deeper  and  more  devotional  feeling  for  beauty 
in  Christian  art  through  the  Middle  Ages,  and  harmo- 
nize with  the  spirit  of  Christian  allegorism.  The 
visible  form  is  valid  only  as  suggestion  of  the  spirit ; 
let  it  suggest  beauties,  not  blemishes  ;  holiness,  rather 
than  fleshly  incitement ;  purity,  rather  than  lust ;  the 
power  of  the  spirit,  rather  than  the  soul's  tempta- 
tions. 

"Love  is  of  the  beautiful,"  said  Plato.  Do  we 
love  anything  except  the  beautiful  ?  asked  Augustine, 
as  his  soul  was  wandering  deviously  on.2  With  Plato 
love  was  desire  and  motive;  for  Christians,  besides 
being  desire  and  motive,  love  was  itself  to  be  fulfil- 
ment, a  reaching  God,  a  bringing  unto  Him  of  all  the 
elements  of  the  individual's  life,  thereby  perfected  in 

1  Gregory  of  Nyssa,  On  the  Soul  and  the  Resurrection. 
*  Ante,  p.  124. 


vi]  BEAUTY  AND  LOVE  129 

eternal  truth.  Such  love  is  the  synthesis  of  all  ele- 
ments of  life,  wherein  no  noble  element  is  lost, 
wherein  desire  of  knowledge  in  itself  and  beauty  in 
itself  gain  further  sanction  as  true  modes  of  life's 
completion. 

Augustine  knew  the  whole  nature  of  love,  its  final 
object,  and  its  true  proportionings  and  directings  of 
itself  thereto.  Man  can  be  at  one  with  himself  only 
in  God.  Augustine  had  proved  this  in  the  restless- 
ness of  his  early  manhood:  "Thou  hast  made  us 
toward  Thee,  and  unquiet  is  our  heart  until  it  rests 
in  Thee." l  This  was  true  of  Augustine,  a  representa- 
tive man;  likewise  it  was  true  of  the  yearning  of 
those  centuries  which  produced  Neo-platonism,  as 
well  as  turned  to  Christ.  Augustine  was  athirst  for 
God;  his  heart  was  stricken,  bathed,  healed,  and  given 
peace  and  joy,  with  the  love  of  God.  "Not  with 
doubting  but  certain  consciousness  (conscientia),  Lord, 
I  love  thee.  Thou  hast  struck  my  heart  with  thy 
Word,  and  I  have  loved  Thee.  But  also  heaven  and 
the  earth  and  all  that  therein  is,  lo,  from  every  quar- 
ter they  tell  me  I  should  love  thee."  "  That  is  the 
blessed  life  (beata  vita)  to  rejoice  toward  Thee,  con- 
cerning Thee  and  because  of  Thee."  "  Give  me  Thy- 
self, my  God,  give  Thyself  to  me  .  .  .  All  my  plenty 
which  is  not  my  God  is  need."  2 

This  is  the  heart's  need  of  God  and  need  to  love 
Him,  and  the  heart's  fulness  of  life  which  that  love 
brings.  What  Augustine's  heart  felt,  his  mind  could 
analyze.     "  That  then  is  love  (dilectio,  ayd-mj)  which  is 

1  Confessions,  1, 1. 

2  Confessions,  X,  8  and  32 ;  XIII,  9. 


130  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

true;  otherwise  it  is  lust  (cupiditas)  .  .  .  This  is 
true  love,  that  cleaving  to  truth  we  may  live  aright 
(juste) ;  and  for  that  reason  we  contemn  all  mortal 
things  except  the  love  for  men  whereby  we  wish  them 
to  live  aright.  Thus  can  we  profitably  be  prepared 
even  to  die  for  our  brethren,  as  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
taught  us  by  his  example.  ...  It  is  love  which 
unites  good  angels  and  servants  of  God  in  the  bond  of 
holiness,  joins  us  to  them  and  them  to  us,  and  sub- 
joins all  unto  God."  Augustine  continues :  Quid 
est  autem  dilectio  vel  charitas  .  .  .  nisi  amor  boni  ? 
Amor  autem  alicujus  amantis  est,  et  amore  aliquid 
amatur.  Ecce  tria  sunt ;  amans,  et  quod  amatur,  et 
amor.  Quid  est  ergo  amor,  nisi  quaedam  vita  duo 
aliqua  copulans,  vel  copulare  appetens,  amantem 
scilicet  et  quod  amatur  ?  Et  hoc  etiam  in  externis 
carnalibusque  amoribus  ita  est ;  sed  ut  aliquid  purius 
et  liquidius  hauriamus  calcata  carne  ascendamus  ad 
animum.  Quid  amat  animus  in  amico  nisi  animum? 
Et  illic  igitur  tria  sunt,  amans,  et  quod  amatur,  et 
amor.1  True  love  is  a  loving  desire  of  the  good; 
love  is  of  the  person  loving,  and  with  love  some- 
thing is  loved.  Then  there  are  three ;  the  lover,  what 
is  loved,  and  love.  Love  is  a  kind  of  life  uniting  the 
lover  and  the  loved.  This  is  true  in  carnal  loves; 
seeking  purer  draughts  of  life,  spurning  the  flesh,  we 
rise  to  the  soul ;  and  what  does  soul  love  in  the  friend 
save  soul  ? 

This  passage  indicates  the  completeness  of  Augus- 
tine's conception.     Love,  dilectio,  that  which  esteems 
and  cherishes  (from  deligo),  also  includes  love's  desire 
1  De  Trinitate,  VIII,  10-14. 


vi]  BEAUTY  AND  LOVE  131 

(amor).  Love  has  a  self-assertive,  acquisitive,  desir- 
ous element ;  hence  when  perfected  is  twofold ;  perfect 
wish  for  the  beloved's  welfare,  and  desire  of  union 
with  the  beloved  for  one's  own  self's  sake,  and  the 
beloved's  sake  as  well.  Here  is  all  of  Plato's  concep- 
tion of  love ;  and  Augustine  has  already  indicated 
how  he  will  now  complete  the  thought  with  something 
he  did  not  find  in  Plato  but  in  Christ.  "  We  must 
love  all  things  with  reference  to  God,  otherwise  it 
is  lust.  Inferior  creatures  are  to  be  used  (utendum) 
with  reference  to  God  (ad  Deum) ;  and  our  fellows 
are  to  be  enjoyed  (fruendum)  with  reference  to  God, 
toward  God ;  so  thyself,  not  in  thyself  ought  thou  to 
enjoy  (frui)  thyself,  but  in  Him  who  made  thee;  thus 
also  shouldst  thou  enjoy  him  whom  thou  lovest  as 
thyself.  Therefore  let  us  enjoy  ourselves  and  our 
brothers  in  the  Lord  and  not  dare  to  surrender  our- 
selves unto  ourselves,  downwards  as  it  were."  l 

Lust  is  an  unproportioned  thing;  in  love  all  motive 
and  desire  is  proportioned  in  the  only  possible  uni- 
versal proportionment,  unto  God.  Thus  Augustine 
completes  his  thought  of  love,  by  relating  every  feel- 
ing and  every  person,  ourselves  and  all  whom  we 
love,  to  God ;  thither  lies  the  standard  of  proportion. 
Augustine  has  carried  through  an  analysis  of  what  he 
felt :  Thou  hast  made  us  toward  Thee,  and  unquiet 
is  our  heart  until  it  rests  in  Thee. 

The  Christian  conception  of  love  was  more  com- 
plete than  any  pagan  thought  of  love.  But  what  was 
the  actual  compass  and  range  of  feelings  generally 
approved  by  the  Church  of  the  fourth  and  fifth  cen- 

i  De  Trinitate,  IX,  13. 


132  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

turies?  How  did  that  compare  with  the  range  of 
pagan  emotion  ?  What  elements  of  pagan  feeling, 
what  pagan  limitations  of  feeling,  passed  over  into 
Christian  emotion  ? 

The  idea  of  Clement  of  Alexandria,  that  only  with  a 
soul  purged  of  emotion  can  a  man  attain  the  logos- 
Christ,  is  connected  with  other  phases  of  self-restraint 
and  renunciation  taught  by  later  Greek  philosophy; 
these,  being  part  of  the  time's  prevalent  moods  and 
ways  of  thinking,  were  introduced  into  Christianity. 
The  philosophic  pain  arising  from  life's  short  uncer- 
tainties comes  to  Christian  souls  as  a  motive  for  keep- 
ing disengaged  from  life's  affections  and  affairs.  Says 
Gregory  of  Nyssa :  "  The  moment  a  husband  looks  on 
the  beloved  face  of  his  wife,  fear  of  separation  seizes 
him.  One  should  keep  disengaged  from  the  I  Egyp- 
tian bondage'  of  this  life's  desires  and  cares.  It  is 
sad  to  care  for  what  one  cannot  keep  forever;  and 
how  can  man  on  earth  keep  anything  forever,  though 
he  love  it  never  so  passionately  ?"  x  This  might  have 
been  written  by  Marcus  Aurelius  or  a  Hindoo ;  it  rep- 
resents a  Hellenistic  mood  of  the  time  thrusting  itself 
into  Christianity,  a  mood  of  mortality  disheartened 
with  itself.  Life's  transitoriness  has  no  pain  for  the 
Christian.  With  the  gospel's  assurance  in  his  heart, 
he  need  not  shut  himself  against  human  loves.  Nev- 
ertheless, such  thoughts  as  these  expressed  by  Gregory 
so  make  part  of  mortality's  short  vision,  and  are  so 
continually  borne  in  on  man  by  all  his  life  on  earth, 
that  they  entered  Christianity  to  stay  for  many  cen- 
turies. 

1  On  Virginity,  Chaps,  in,  IV. 


vi]  BEAUTY  AND  LOVE  133 

There  were,  however,  Christians  who  spoke  against 
suppression  of  the  affections,  recognizing  that  such  a 
principle  was  pagan,  while  Christianity  called  for  the 
use  and  development  of  all  elements  of  human  nature. 
It  is  an  error  of  the  Stoics,  says  Lactantius,  that  they 
would  cut  off  all  emotions  —  desire,  joy,  fear,  and  grief 
—  as  diseases  of  the  human  being ;  the  Peripatetics  are 
not  so  far  from  the  truth  in  teaching  that  the  affec- 
tions, as  a  part  of  human  nature,  should  not  be  rooted 
out,  but  moderated.  Yet  they  too  are  wrong,  for  at 
times  it  is  right  to  rejoice  or  grieve  greatly.  Man 
should  not  moderate  the  affections,  but  regulate  their 
causes.  He  who  rightly  fears  God  is  a  man  of  right 
fortitude,  and  will  not  fear  pain  and  death,  which  it 
is  unworthy  of  man  to  fear.  "Where  there  are  no 
vices,  there  is  no  place  for  virtue ;  as  there  is  no  place 
for  victory  unless  there  be  an  adversary.  There  can 
be  no  good  without  evil  in  this  life.  Emotional  desire 
is,  as  it  were,  a  natural  fruitfulness  of  souls  (affectus 
igitur,  quasi  ubertas  est  naturalis  animorum).  A  wild 
field  will  bring  forth  briars,  but  a  cultivated  field  good 
fruit ;  and  when  God  made  man,  He  gave  him  emo- 
tions (commotiones)  that  he  might  take  virtue."  1 

A  greater  man  than  Lactantius  also  maintained  that 
affections  and  emotions  were  elements  of  Christian 
life  on  earth  :  "  The  citizens  of  the  sacred  city  of  God 
in  this  life's  sojourning,  living  according  to  God's 
will,  fear,  desire,  grieve,  rejoice.  And  because  their 
love  is  rightly  directed,  so  are  these  feelings  of  theirs. 
They  fear  eternal  punishment,  desire  eternal  life,  they 
groan  in  themselves  waiting  for  the  adoption ;    they 

1  Lactantius,  Divine  Institutes,  V,  15-17. 


134  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

fear  to  sin,  they  desire  to  persevere,  they  grieve  in 
sins,  and  rejoice  in  good  works."  * 

From  the  greatness  of  his  nature  Augustine  recog- 
nized the  emotions,  above  all  the  love  of  God  ;  never- 
theless, like  many  other  Christian  writers  of  the  early 
centuries,  he  was  deeply  affected  by  pagan,  and  espe- 
cially by  Neo-platonic,  thought  in  his  conceptions  of 
supreme  blessedness  in  this  life  and  hereafter.  Christ 
had  set  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  above  all,  and  men 
might  enter  even  here  on  earth ;  the  life  absolute,  eter- 
nal, is  of  supreme  worth  for  men ;  and  on  earth  they 
may  receive  it.  But  on  earth  the  Kingdom  must  be 
entered  and  eternal  life  attained  in  ways  of  action 
according  with  the  realities  of  human  life  in  its  earthly 
conditions.  Christ  set  forth  a  plan  for  truly  perfect- 
ing the  earthly  life,  a  scheme  of  human  progress,  in 
which  mankind  must  participate  in  modes  of  action 
suited  to  earth.  Man  shall  not  on  earth  strive  to  at- 
tain unearthly,  and  so  for  this  life  unreal,  states  of 
bliss.  Neither  in  the  synoptics  nor  in  the  gospel  of 
John  does  Christ  set  forth  as  man's  highest  goal  on 
earth  any  mystical  vision  of  God  or  any  mystical 
union  of  the  soul  with  God.  Here  on  earth  commun- 
ion with  God  comes  through  doing  His  will  in  faith 
and  love  and  knowledge.  Nor  does  Christ  suggest 
that  love's  service  shall  cease  in  the  Kingdom  of 
Heaven. 

But  the  Christian  Fathers,  steeped  in  the  moods  of 
the  centuries  which  found  their  pagan  expression  in 
Xeo-platonism,  and  looking  forward  to  the  final,  mys- 
tic, ineffable  vision  of  God,  felt  that  this  vision  was 
i  Augustine,  Civ.  Dei,  XIV,  9. 


vi]  BEAUTY  AND  LOVE  136 

the  goal  of  life  on  earth.  Even  here  let  the  believer's 
soul,  purged  of  its  dross,  unite  with  God.  The  Chris- 
tian brought  into  this  mystic  union  the  element  of 
love  —  a  great  reality.  But  otherwise  this  goal  with 
Christians  as  with  Plotinus  involved  the  ignoring  of 
life's  realities.  Christians  as  well  as  Neo-platonists 
were  struggling  in  earthly  life  to  reach  beyond  it,  out 
of  it,  after  what  is  for  man  on  earth  unreal.  Here 
was  an  abnegation  of  this  life's  real  loves  and  acts 
and  knowledge.  Whereas  by  a  fulfilment  of  them 
all  man  does  the  will  of  God  according  to  the  gospel 
of  Christ.1 

1  The  underlying  error  lay  here.  The  later  systems  of  Greek 
philosophy  were  systems  of  renunciation.  This  is  clearly  true  of 
later  Stoicism;  and  Neo-platonism  was  a  striving  in  the  way  of 
unreal  fantasy  after  that  which  along  the  paths  of  actual  human 
life  and  knowledge  men  had  abandoned.  It,  too,  was  a  renuncia- 
tion—  of  the  real.  Similar  ideals,  which  would  suppress  one  side 
of  human  life  or  dream  away  from  all  of  its  realities,  the  Christian 
Fathers  were  bringing  into  Christianity,  which  was  a  gospel  of  ful- 
filment, attainment  absolute.  There  could  be  no  more  comprehen- 
sive error  than  to  direct  the  fulness  of  life,  which  was  Christ's  gos- 
pel, toward  goals  of  apathy,  of  suppression  of  life's  elements,  of 
asceticism,  or  even  toward  goals  of  inactive  mysticism.  Yet  this 
was  done  in  the  third,  fourth,  and  fifth  centuries.  Says  Augustine  : 
"Thus  two  loves  made  these  two  cities:  the  love  of  self  even  to 
despising  God  made  the  earthly  city ;  the  love  of  God  even  to  de- 
spising self  made  the  heavenly  "  (Civ.  Dei,  XIV,  28).  The  love  of 
God  means  not  despising,  but  honoring  self;  and  for  Christians  on 
earth  the  true  love  of  God  must  show  itself  in  doing  earth's  duties 
and  living  out  earth's  full  life,  and  not  in  abandoning  all  for  dreams, 
though  the  dreams  be  of  Heaven. 


CHAPTER  VII 

ABANDONMENT   OF  PAGAN  PRINCIPLES  IN   A  CHRISTIAN 
SYSTEM    OF    LIFE 

I.   Origins  of  Monasticism 

From  the  thoughts  of  Augustine  and  Lactantius 
regarding  love  and  the  emotions  akin  or  contrary 
to  it,  we  may  turn  to  the  practical  decision  upon 
these  matters  given  by  the  lives  of  Christians.  Was 
there  some  mode  of  life  definitely  determined  on,  and 
so  strongly  and  widely  followed  as  to  represent  Chris- 
tian sentiment  ?  The  problem  was,  What  human  feel- 
ings, what  loves  and  interests  of  this  world,  shall  the 
Christian  recognize  as  according  with  his  faith,  and 
as  offering  no  opposition  to  the  love  of  God  and 
the  attainment  of  eternal  life  ?  It  was  solved  by 
the  growth  of  an  indeterminate  asceticism  within  the 
Christian  communities,  which  in  the  fourth  century 
went  forth  with  power,  and  peopled  the  desert  with 
anchorites  and  monks.1 

Monasticism  was  asceticism;  it  had  also  motives 
which  were  not  ascetic.  The  original  meaning  of 
ao-Kr/o-ts,  from  the  verb  acnceiv,  is  exercise  for  the  im- 

1  In  the  following  pages  the  term  "  anchorite,"  or  "  hermit,"  is 
used  to  mean  a  solitary  ascetic;  the  term  ''monk"  to  mean  a 
coenobite,  or  member  of  an  ascetic  or  monastic  community. 

136 


chap,  vii]  ORIGINS  OF  MONASTICISM  137 

provement  of  the  faculties  exercised.  More  espe- 
cially it  signifies  the  practice  of  acts  which  exercise 
the  soul  in  virtue  or  holiness,  and  acts,  however 
painful,  which  have  not  this  object  are  not  ascetic.1 
Prayer,  intended  to  move  the  Deity,  is  not  ascetic,  nor 
is  sacrifice,  if  intended  to  placate  Him.  But  another 
element  is  so  universally  present  in  asceticism  that  it 
may  be  regarded  as  essential ;  this  is  the  thought  that 
matter,  or,  at  least,  the  material  and  animal  side  of 
human  nature,  is  evil.  Ascetic  practices  proceed  on 
the  idea  that  the  desires  representing  "  the  lusts  of 
the  flesh  "  are  evil,  not  merely  in  their  excesses,  but 
in  their  normal  operation.  And  the  purpose  of  ascetic 
acts  and  abstentions  is  to  increase  man's  spiritual 
nature,  and  purify  it  by  suppressing  the  senses.  To 
the  ascetic,  normal  comfort,  not  merely  its  abuse  in 
luxury,  is  evil;  so  is  normal  diet,  and  not  merely 
gluttony ;  not  only  fornication,  but  all  sexual  inter- 
course and  every  mode  of  life  that  may  bring  desire 
of  it.  Asceticism,  then,  is  that  course  of  life  which 
suppresses  the  senses,  purifies  the  soul  from  sensual 
desires,  and  exercises  it  in  virtue.  The  ascetic  act  or 
abstention  is  that  which  has  this  purpose. 

Christian  monasticism  was  to  be  ascetic  in  this 
proper  sense,  in  that  its  object  was  to  purify  and 
strengthen  the  monk's  soul,  and  make  it  such  that 
it  would  not  fail  to  win  eternal  life.  Monastic  abne- 
gation had  as  a  further  motive  the  love  of  Christ  and 
the  desire  to  help  on  His  kingdom.     In  monasticism 

iThis  purpose,  or  the  cognate  purpose  of  acquiring  specific 
powers,  was  present  in  the  austerities  of  Indian  asceticism  ;  it  was 
also  present  in  the  milder  practices  of  (late)  Greek  asceticism. 


138  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

the  ascetic  principle,  that  the  senses  are  evil  and 
should  be  suppressed,  continually  joins  with  the  mo- 
tive of  sacrifice  for  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven's  sake. 
Thus  the  system  keeps  itself  in  part  accord  with  the 
life  of  Him  who  came  eating  and  drinking  and  pro- 
claiming no  fasts  or  penances  or  celibacy,  but  announc- 
ing the  Kingdom  of  Heaven,  and  bidding  men  live 
unto  it  in  love  of  God  and  man,  according  to  whose 
words  there  might  be  also  eunuchs  —  as  other  martyrs 
—  for  its  sake.  One  man  must  be  burned,  another 
must  give  up  his  goods,  and  a  third  renounce  his 
heart's  love  —  for  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven's  sake,  and 
not  because  marriage  is  lower  than  virginity.  The 
motives  of  such  sacrifice  are  not  ascetic,  but  Christian. 

Still  another  consideration :  acts  which  may  appear 
ascetic  are  a  natural  accompaniment  of  penitence.  It 
is  the  instinct  of  the  repentant  soul  to  mourn  in  sack- 
cloth and  ashes.  When  the  sinner,  stung  by  love  of 
the  Crucified,  turns  to  penitence,  his  heart  cries  for 
punishment.  Or  he  may  have  fear  of  hell  before 
him  and  seek  to  undergo  temporal  in  order  to  avert 
eternal  pain.  In  either  case,  penance,  self-flagella- 
tion, may  have  motives  which  are  not  ascetic.  When 
St.  Martin  came  to  die,  he  would  lie  only  upon  ashes ; 
"  and  I  have  sinned  if  I  leave  you  a  different  example." * 
Centuries  afterward,  when  Cceur  de  Lion  —  no  monk 
and  no  saint !  —  was  dying,  he  would  be  beaten,  hang- 
ing head  downward,  in  penitence  for  his  sins.  What 
motives  entered  these  deathbed  insistences  ?  Some, 
at  least,  that  were  not  ascetic. 

The    earlier    ethical    ideals    of    Greek   philosophy 

1  Sulpicius  Severus,  Epist.  III. 


vn]  ORIGINS  OF  MONASTICISM  139 

included  a  consideration  of  the  whole  nature  of 
man,  with  subordination  of  the  physical  to  the 
spiritual  elements.  From  Plato  onward,  there  was 
a  growing  tendency  to  regard  the  soul  as  supreme 
and  to  find  human  welfare  in  the  souFs  freedom 
and  independence  of  circumstances.  This  was  the 
stoical  ideal.  But,  though  ascetic  in  tendency,  stoi- 
cism was  not  asceticism,  since  it  had  no  thought  that 
matter  was  evil,  and  that  the  soul  should  therefore 
be  purged  from  sense-contamination.  In  its  own 
way  it  reached  the  conclusion  that  the  emotional 
side  of  man  should  be  suppressed.  ]S"eo-platonism, 
however,  held  that  matter  was  evil,  and  so  pre- 
sented a  philosophic  basis  for  ascetic  living,  which 
was  inculcated  by  its  philosophers.  Much  in  the 
life  of  St.  Anthony  might  have  been  rationally  based 
on  teachings  of  Plotinus  and  Porphyry,  whose  ethics 
laid  such  stress  on  the  purification  of  the  soul  from 
the  contamination  of  matter  and  the  ties  of  sense.1 

So  in  the  first  three  centuries  of  the  Christian 
era,  ascetic  thoughts  were  familiar  to  Hellenically 
educated  people.  As  Christianity  spread  among 
them,  their  understanding  of  it  was  affected  by  con- 
ceptions derived  from  the  later  systems  of  philos- 
ophy. Yet  it  does  not  follow  that  Hellenic  ideas 
were  among  the  direct  causes  of   Christian  monasti- 

1  There  is  at  least  one  distinctly  Hellenic  note  in  the  Athanasian 
Vita  S.  Antonii :  when  many  people  sought  Anthony  out,  importu- 
nate to  see  him  and  imitate  his  discipline,  Anthony,  after  twenty 
years'  solitude,  came  forth  from  his  hermitage  initiated  in  the  mys- 
teries and  filled  with  divine  spirit.  His  soul  was  pure,  and  undis- 
turbed by  grief  or  pleasure ;  he  appeared  like  a  man  in  every  way 
guided  by  reason  {Vita  Antonii,  Sec.  14). 


140  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

cism.  The  pagan  Greeks  were  only  dilettantes  in 
ascetic  practices,  never  virtuosos.  Clement  of  Alex- 
andria and  Origen  may  themselves  have  been  influ- 
ences in  the  growth  of  Neo-platonism.  At  least  their 
teachings  were  affected  by  prevalent  spiritual  condi- 
tions which  had  likewise  much  to  do  with  the  evolu- 
tion of  Plotinus's  system.  Again,  Gnosticism  was 
in  its  moods  akin  to  much  in  both  the  Alexandrian 
fathers  and  the  Alexandrian  Neo-platonists.  It  was 
ascetic  and  distinctly  dualistic.  And  finally  through- 
out orthodox  Christianity  there  was  very  living  dual- 
ism in  the  strife  of  devils  against  Christ's  kingdom. 

Many  of  the  men,  Christian  and  Pagan,  referred  to 
in  these  pages,  were  not  of  Hellenic  birth,  but  Copts  : 
Origen,  Plotiuus,  Anthony,  were  all  Copts.  But  it 
is  not  safe  to  ascribe  the  insane  asceticism  of  the 
Egyptian  monks  to  the  fact  that  many  of  them,  like 
Anthony,  were  of  this  race,  and  so  less  reasonable  than 
Greeks.  Origen  was  the  greatest  intellect  of  the 
Eastern  Church,  and  Plotinus  was  a  supreme  meta- 
physician. The  first  Christian  hermits  and  monks  in 
Egypt  and  elsewhere  were  influenced  by  the  supersti- 
tions and  ascetic  practices  of  the  countries  in  which 
they  lived,  quite  as  much  as  by  influences  coming 
through  literary  or  scholastic  channels.  There  was  in 
Egypt  a  mass  of  lore  upon  the  conflict  of  Set  and  his 
evil  host  with  Horus  and  his  host  of  powers  seeking 
vengeance  for  Osiris  slain ;  and  the  genius  of  Egypt 
had  always  occupied  itself  with  imagining  scenes  of 
the  future  life.  These  notions  may  have  affected  the 
imagination  of  the  Christian  hermit  and  monk,  prepar- 
ing him  to  evolve  his  marvellous  combats  with  many 


vii]  ORIGINS  OF  MONASTICISM  141 

devils,  and  the  curious  elaboration  of  his  expectancy 
as  to  the  life  to  come.  It  is  moreover  certain  that 
Pachomius  had  been  one  of  a  band  of  Serapis  recluses, 
before  becoming  a  Christian ;  and  in  his  daily  life  and 
ascetic  practices  as  a  Christian  hermit,  and  then  as  the 
head  of  a  Christian  monastery,  he  must  have  been 
influenced  by  the  habits  of  his  former  ascetic  life. 

But  it  would  be  an  error  to  seek  the  source  and  power 
of  monasticism  among  the  circumstances  of  its  early 
years  in  Egypt.  It  drew  suggestions  from  its  Egyp- 
tian environment ;  and  the  hermits  of  Egypt  tended  to 
carry  asceticism  to  the  verge  of  insanity  —  but  so  did 
hermits  of  Syria  who  appeared  nearly  at  the  same 
time.  Still  greater  caution  is  to  be  exercised  in  look- 
ing to  the  farther  East  for  influences  upon  monasticism. 
The  ascetic  life  in  both  the  monastic  and  the  recluse 
form  had  been  common  in  India  for  centuries  before 
as  well  as  after  the  time  of  Christ.  Hindoo  influences 
extended  north  and  west  of  India,  and,  in  conjunction 
with  Persian  dualism,  touched  Mesopotamia  and  the 
eastern  Mediterranean  lands.  But  any  Brahman  or 
Buddhist  influence  upon  Christian  monasticism  cannot 
be  shown. 

It  is  possible  that  far-Eastern  or  Hellenic  influence 
affected  the  Jewish  communities  of  the  Essenes,  who 
lived  lives  of  continence  in  modes  approaching  the 
monastic  type.  As  to  whether  Christian  monasticism 
in  its  turn  was  influenced  by  the  Essenes,  or  by  the 
more  problematic  Therapeutae  described  in  the  writ- 
ing upon  The  Contemplative  Life,  attributed  to  Philo, 
it  may  be  said:  the  writings  in  which  these  ascetic 
communities  were  described  were  known  in  Christian 


142  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

circles,  and  may  have  furnished  suggestion  to  Christian 
monks.  But  nothing  more.  Monasticism  arose  from 
within  Christianity,  not  from  without. 

The  circumstances  of  the  early  Christian  communi- 
ties were  such  as  to  develop  a  sense  of  opposition 
between  Christianity  and  the  pagan  world.  The  life 
of  the  Church  was  many-sided  conflict :  to  advance  in 
spite  of  imperial  persecution  and  the  pagan  people's 
hate,  and  to  preserve  the  Christian  faith  as  delivered 
to  the  saints,  and  keep  the  lives  of  Christians  pure 
from  corruption.  Christianity  was  militant  from  the 
beginning.  The  Lord  had  said,  "  My  Kingdom  is  not 
of  this  world."  The  conflict  between  Christ  and  the 
World  was  a  matter  of  universal  life  ;  and  its  setting 
forth  in  the  gospel  of  John  might  be  misunderstood. 
How  was  the  Church  to  realize  that  all  positive  ele- 
ments of  life  were  on  the  side  of  Christ  ?  In  the 
first  epistle  of  John,  the  opposition  between  Christ 
and  the  World  is  absolute.  Likewise  in  the  Apocalypse 
all  is  conflict.  To  the  seer's  eye  is  disclosed  the  final 
storm,  and  then  the  peace  of  victory  —  a  new  heaven 
and  a  new  earth,  tears  wiped  away,  no  more  death,  no 
more  mourning,  no  more  pain,  but  the  water  of  the  tree 
of  life  given  freely  to  him  that  is  athirst ;  he  that  over- 
cometh  shall  inherit,  and  shall  be  a  son  of  God.  It  is 
all  a  vision  of  the  verity  of  Christian  warfare,  shortened 
in  the  coming  of  eternal  peace  :  "  I  come  quickly  !  " 
"  Yea,  come,  Lord  Jesus,"  cries  the  heart  of  the  seer. 

For  such  a  mighty  conflict  with  the  world  it  behooved 
a  Christian  to  be  an  athlete  with  his  loins  girded. 
There  was  no  time  for  other  matters  while  the  conflict 
raged,  which  was  so  soon  to  be  crowned  with  victory 


vn]  ORIGINS  OF  MONASTICISM  143 

at  the  coming  of  the  Lord.  Should  Christians  hamper 
themselves  with  ephemeral  domestic  ties  ?  The  con- 
flict was  not  merely  with  political  cruelty  and  popular 
rage  ;  it  was  a  warfare  to  the  death,  —  to  the  death  of 
the  soul  or  to  the  death  of  sin,  whereof  fleshly  lusts 
are  so  great  and  foul  a  part.  These  thoughts  came  to 
communities  touched  by  conceptions  of  the  evil  nature 
of  matter  and  the  cravings  of  the  flesh.  Hence,  be- 
sides considerations  of  the  incompatibility  of  marriage 
with  absolute  devotion  to  the  Christian  warfare,  there 
soon  came  the  thought  that,  although  lawful,  it  was 
not  as  holy  as  the  virgin  or  celibate  state.  This  is  an 
ascetic  thought;  while  the  remaining  reasons  mili- 
tating against  marriage  spring  from  the  desire  to 
devote  one's  life  entirely  to  other  purposes. 

There  was  no  disparagement  of  marriage  in  the  mind 
of  Christ,  no  misprisal  of  the  life  of  those  whom  God 
had  joined  together.  But  everything,  as  call  might 
come,  must  be  sacrificed  for  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven, 

—  and  there  are  some  who  are  eunuchs  for  the  Kingdom 
of  Heaven's  sake ;  blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart,  for  they 
shall  see  God.  Such  teachings  received  special  inter- 
pretation, perhaps  before  the  apostolic  age  was  past. 
Here  the  mind  of  Paul  is  not  the  mind  of  Christ. 
The  apostle  sees  how  marriage  may  conflict  with  the 
demands  of  the  Christian  life ;  and  his  way  of  stating 
this  —  the  unmarried  man  mindeth  the  things  of  the 
Lord,  the  married  man  mindeth  the  things  of  his  wife 

—  is  indicative  of  a  certain  disparagement  of  marriage 
itself,  a  disparagement  which  appears  in  other  of  his 
utterances.1 

1  See  1  Cor.  vii.    But  cf.  Zockler,  Askese,  etc.,  pp.  140-145. 


144  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

A  current  of  ascetic  life  may  be  traced  in  the  early- 
Christian  communities.  There  are  hints  of  the  ap- 
proval of  celibacy  for  Christian  teachers  in  The  Teach- 
ing of  the  Twelve  Apostles  ;  apparently  at  the  date  of 
this  writing  there  were  classes  of  men  in  the  Church 
who  abstained  from  marriage.1  Soon  approval  of  celi- 
bacy is  shown  in  both  orthodox  and  heretical  (Gnostic 
and  Montanist)  circles  ;  it  appears  in  Justin  Martyr ; 
it  is  strong  with  Cyprian,  with  Clement  of  Alexandria 
—  and  the  deed  of  Origen  is  well  known.  After  the 
third  century,  Christian  writers  are  well-nigh  unani- 
mous in  setting  the  virgin  or  celibate  state  above  the 
state  of  marriage.2 

Modern  scholarship  has  corrected  the  earlier  exag- 
gerated views  of  the  corruption  of  the  Roman  Empire. 
Yet  periods  of  declining  strength  are  necessarily  cor- 
rupt :  in  comparison  with  the  amount  of  strength  and 
virtue  existing,  there  is  a  greater  proportion  of  weak- 
ness and  evil  than  in  a  period  of  advance,  however 
rough.  It  was  a  phase  of  declining  strength  that  men 
and  women  sought  the  gratification  of  their  passions 
while  shunning  the  responsibilities  of  marriage.  The 
sexual  intercourse  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  Roman 
Empire  was  disproportionately  illicit.  Such  a  condi- 
tion tended  to  disparage  marriage.  Sternly  the  Chris- 
tian Fathers  condemned  the  corruption  of  the  world. 

i  Didacht,  VI,  2 ;  XI,  11 ;  and  cf.  I,  4. 

2  Exceptions  were  the  monk  Jovinian  and  the  presbyter  Vigilan- 
tius  of  the  latter  part  of  the  fourth  century.  See  Smith  and  Wace, 
Dictionary  of  Christian  Biography.  Basil,  Ascetica,  Sermo  de 
renunciatione  saeculi,  recognizes  that  a  married  man  has  wider 
responsibilities  than  a  monk,  and  that  married  life  is  harder  to  lead 
aright. 


vn]  ORIGINS   OF  MONASTICISM  145 

Had  they  been  free  from  ascetic  tendencies,  they 
might  have  looked  to  the  elevation  of  marriage  and 
the  fostering  of  family  life  as  the  true  remedy  of  the 
prevailing  dissoluteness.  They  would  have  deemed 
marriage  praiseworthy  and  not  merely  permissible. 
But  now  they  could  not  help  looking  on  celibacy  as 
the  higher  state.  In  Christianity  all  but  the  best 
incurs  disparagement.  With  Christians,  to  assert 
that  celibacy  is  best  is  to  assert  that  marriage  is  not 
good.  The  Church  Fathers  could  not  close  their  eyes 
to  the  need  of  continuing  the  human  race,  nor  to  the 
plain  sanction  of  matrimony  in  the  Scriptures.  But 
for  these  two  facts,  the  Church  of  the  fifth  century 
might  have  condemned  marriage  unconditionally.  As 
it  was,  the  Church  lauded  celibacy  and  gradually  re- 
quired it  of  the  clergy.1 

The  early  Christians  who  lived  as  celibates  from 
ascetic  motives  were  not  an  organized  order  and  ap- 
parently practised  no  austerities.  It  appears,  however, 
from  the  Pseudo-Clementine  Epistles,  written  near 
the  beginning  of  the  third  century,  that  at  that  time 

1  Any  one  reading  much  patristic  writing  is  astonished  at  the 
extent  to  which  this  struggle  with  fleshly  lust  filled  the  thoughts 
and  occupied  the  strength  of  the  Fathers.  Anthony  struggling  with 
filthy  demons  is  not  unrepresentative  of  the  general  state  of  the 
Church.  Christians  had  to  writhe  themselves  free  from  their  lusts. 
Grudgingly  the  Fathers  admit  that  Scripture  sanctions  marriage, 
and  so  it  is  not  utter  sin.  Says  Jerome:  "  Laudo  nuptias,  sed  quia 
mihi  virgines  generant!  "  Ep.  XXII,  Ad  Eustochium,  §  20,  a  com- 
position which  had  great  influence  at  the  time.  Ep.  CXXX,  to 
Demetrias,  a  virgin,  is  not  quite  so  extreme.  In  the  Epistle  to 
Eustochium,  Jerome  also  considers  the  non-ascetic  reasons  against 
marriage:  u  Nemo  enim  miles  cum  uxore  pergit  ad  proelium  "  (ib., 
§  21) ;  and  see  Preliminary  Discourse  to  Basil's  Ascelica,  Migne, 
Pair.  Graec,  Vol.  XXXI,  col.  619. 

L 


146  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

virgins  and  celibates  constituted  recognized  classes 
within  the  community.  Certain  precepts  apply  to 
them,  and  certain  modes  of  life  are  recognized  as  fit- 
ting, especially  for  the  men  belonging  to  the  ascetic 
class  of  wandering  preachers ;  let  these  avoid  women, 
and  not  lodge  in  the  same  houses  with  them.1 

The  functions  of  these  preachers  were  gradually  to 
be  assumed  by  the  clergy.  But  the  celibacy  which 
they  represented  could  not  continue  among  an  undis- 
ciplined body  of  men  living  within  the  communities. 
Those  who  would  keep  their  virgin  state  needed  bar- 
riers between  their  temptations  and  their  principles. 
It  were  best  to  withdraw  from  society ;  ascetics  must 
become  anchorites,  "they  who  have  withdrawn."2 
Here  was  clear  reason  why  asceticism  should  betake 
itself  to  the  desert.  But  the  solitary  life  is  difficult, 
and  beyond  the  strength  of  ordinary  men.3  Solitaries 
would  be  forced  to  associate  together  for  mutual  aid, 
and  then  would  need  regulations  under  which  to  live. 
So  anchorites  tend  to  become  coenobites ;  monasticism 
begins. 

Withdrawal  from  society  and  association  in  order 
to  render  existence  tolerable  were  cognate  phases  of  a 
general  movement,  the  beginnings  of  which  naturally 
are  obscure.      At  the  close  of  the  third  century  an 

1  See  "  Two  Letters  on  Virginity,"  Ante-Xicene  Fathers,  Vol. 
VIII,  p.  51,  etc.;  also  A.  Harnack,  "Die  Pseudo-Clementinisehen 
Briefe  de  Virginitate  und  die  Entstehung  des  Monehthums,"  Sitzen- 
berichte  der  Berlin  Akademie,  1891,  I,  361-3S5.  These  preachers 
apparently  were  the  successors  to  the  prophets  and  teachers  referred 
to  in  Didache,  XI,  etc. 

^  From  ava\uip€LV. 

3  See,  e.g.,  Cassian,  Conl,  XIX,  3-8. 


vn]  ORIGINS   OF  MONAST1CISM  147 

ascetic  and  scholastic  association  existed  near  Alexan- 
dria under  the  leadership  of  pupils  of  Origen.1  But 
already  Anthony,  the  archetype  of  anchorites,  has  fled 
to  the  desert  of  the  Thebaid.2  Even  this  man,  im- 
passioned for  isolation,  was  soon  surrounded  by  those 
who  yearned  to  emulate  his  example.  The  desert 
became  full  of  solitaries,  who  nevertheless,  as  they 
withdrew  from  society,  tended  to  draw  together  for 
helpfulness  or  edification. 

Anthony  was  the  marvellous  devil-fighting  recluse. 
A  communal  life  was  not  to  his  taste,  nor  did  its  regu- 
lation lie  within  his  genius.  He  was  originative  only 
as  an  example,  and  formulated  no  monastic  rule.  Such 
was  to  come  from  his  younger  contemporary  Pacho- 
mius  (285-345  a.d.),  who  dwelt  in  upper  Egypt,  and 
began  his  ascetic  life  as  a  member  of  a  Serapis  com- 
munity of  recluses.  Afterward  he  became  a  Christian 
and  the  imitator  of  a  mighty  ascetic  named  Palaemon. 
After  seven  years  of  discipleship  he  departed  to  another 
place,  where  there  came  to  him  a  vision  commanding 
him  to  serve  the  human  race  and  unite  them  to  God. 
Disciples  soon  gathered  to  live  under  his  direction. 
This  was  at  Tabenna,  on  the  right  bank  of  the  Nile, 
opposite  Denderah.  Pachomius  ordered  his  growing 
community,  and  prescribed  a  regula  for  the  life  of  its 
members.  They  increased  in  numbers,  and  groups  of 
brethren  went  forth  to  found  other  monasteries,  the 
members   of   which   also   lived   under   his   direction. 

1  See  Zockler,  op.  cit.,  pp.  176-178. 

2  The  majority  of  scholars  regard  the  Vita  Antonii  ascribed  to 
Athanasius  as  genuine.  See,  generally,  Zockler,  op.  cit.,  pp.  183- 
192.  Anthony  died  in  the  year  356,  at  the  alleged  age  of  105 
years. 


148  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

His  regula  was  the  first  formulated  code  of  monastic 
life.  It  directed  that  each  monk  should  eat  accord- 
ing to  his  needs,  and  labor  according  to  his  food  and 
strength.  It  also  prescribed  common  meals,  to  be 
taken  in  silence,  and  the  manner  in  which  monks 
should  sleep,  three  in  a  cell;  also  their  dress,  their 
fastings,  their  prayers,  their  treatment  of  strangers, 
and  other  matters.  The  regula  did  not  demand  ex- 
traordinary austerities,  nor  impose  burdens  beyond 
human  strength. 

In  the  generation  after  Pachomius'  death,  when 
the  monks  of  Egypt,  of  Palestine,  Syria,  Mesopotamia, 
and  Asia  Minor  numbered  many  thousands,  the  great 
St.  Basil  of  Cappadocia  wrote  regulae  (open)  in  the 
form  of  questions  and  answers.  Their  extraordinary 
disorder  and  confusion  made  them  difficult  to  follow 
as  a  rule  of  monastic  life.  Yet  they  were  generally 
accepted  in  the  East,  and  strongly  influenced  Western 
monasticism. 

Thus  in  the  East,  beginning  in  Egypt,  Christian 
asceticism  leaves  society,  flees  to  the  desert,  secludes 
itself  in  hermit  cells,  and  organizes  itself  in  monastic 
life.  At  first  it  is  extreme,  doing  acts  of  austerity 
which  could  but  craze  or  brutalize ;  then  in  communi- 
ties it  regulates  itself,  restrains  its  insanities,  betakes 
itself  to  labor,  and  in  Christian  humility  bows  its 
neck  to  obey.  It  is  regulated  by  the  Church  through 
Basil. 

The  fundamental  principles  of  labor  and  obedience 
arose  from  the  nature  and  necessities-  of  monasticism 
and  from  the  spirit  of  Christianity.  The  solitary 
recluse  must  labor  to  supply  his  wants;   associated 


vn]  ORIGINS  OF  MONASTICISM  149 

monks  must  likewise  labor,  and  may  labor  to  better 
advantage  by  a  division  of  tasks.  Both  recluse  and 
monk  must  labor  also  for  the  wherewithal  to  exercise 
charity  and  hospitality,  virtues  which  the  monks  of 
the  East  did  not  lack.  No  less  important  was  labor 
as  a  discipline.  This  was  recognized  in  the  regula  of 
Pachomius.  The  recluse,  too,  found  labor  a  necessity, 
if  he  would  retain  sanity  of  mind  and  body.  Only  it 
was  characteristic  of  the  lack  of  practical  purpose  in 
the  beginning  of  the  movement,  that  hermits  often 
set  themselves  absurd  tasks,  as  they  practised  pre- 
posterous austerities.  A  man  like  Pachomius,  finding 
himself  at  the  head  of  a  community  of  monks,  would 
direct  their  disciplinary  and  other  labors  to  usefulness, 
and  their  ascetic  practices  to  the  reasonable  exercise 
and  betterment  of  the  soul. 

The  hermit  must  labor,  though  he  had  no  one  to 
obey.  But  from  the  first  establishment  of  a  monastic 
community,  obedience  was  a  necessary  principle  of  its 
existence.  There  must  be  rules,  and  obedience  to 
them.  Christianity  emanated  from  the  example  and 
the  words  of  Christ.  It  was  conformity  to  the  one 
and  obedience  to  the  other,  in  humility  of  soul  as  a 
little  child.  The  authority  of  the  Lord  was  personal, 
and  given  to  Him  from  above,  not  depending  on  human 
election.  Prom  above  —  from  Christ  —  came  the  au- 
thority of  the  apostles,  and  so  on  downward  in  widen- 
ing circles,  ever  from  above.  It  fell  in  with  general 
Christian  principles  that  monks  should  obey  an  abbot. 
This  also  fell  in  with  the  habits  of  the  East,  where 
authority  emanates  always  from  a  man.  Obedience 
also   sprang  from  the   manner  of  monastic  origins, 


150  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

when  admiring  hermits  grouped  themselves  around 
one  whom  they  looked  upon  as  their  superior  in 
wisdom  and  sanctity. 

The  principle  of  obedience  is  assumed  by  the  rule 
of  Pachomius,  and  becomes  explicit  with  Basil,  the 
first  regulator-general  of  monasticism.  This  mighty 
episcopal  saint  lays  stress  upon  it.  Let  caution  be 
used  in  permitting  men  to  enter  upon  monastic  life 
and  take  its  vows ;  after  that,  a  monk  who  refuses 
obedience  commits  deadly  sin.  A  monk  shall  not 
follow  his  own  will,  but  what  is  set  by  others.1  In  the 
West,  more  masterfully,  monastic  life  was  to  be  re- 
nunciation of  the  individual  selfish  will,  and  the  doing 
of  the  commands  of  God,  given  through  those  who  for 
the  monk  were  God's  representatives. 

If  the  Christian  churches  had  been  kept  continually 
in  the  purifying  fires  of  persecution,  ascetic  devotion 
might  have  continued  to  find  within  them  scope  for 
its  energy  and  safeguards  for  its  life.  The  persecuted 
and  the  martyred  did  not  need  to  crucify  the  flesh 
in  the  desert.  Whenever  persecution  ceased,  laxity 
of  manners  and  morals  invaded  Christian  communi- 
ties. From  the  time  of  Constantine,  it  became  con- 
venient for  the  world,  evil  and  good,  to  cloak  itself 
with  Christianity.  The  tremendous  increase  of  mo- 
nasticism, and  of  the  celibate  life  even  outside  of 
monasteries,  was  the  answering  protest  of  the  fervent 
Christian  life.  The  anchorite  and  the  monk  do 
not  represent  a  flight  from  persecution,  from  hard- 
ship, or  from  danger,  but  a  flight  from  luxury  and 
sin.  Not  in  times  of  persecution,  but  after  the 
i  Beg./usius  (A),  XLI. 


vn]  ORIGINS  OF  MONASTICISM  151 

Church  had  this  world's   peace,   their   tens   became 
thousands.1 

1  In  the  writings  of  the  Fathers,  the  martyrs  are  called  Christ's 
athletes;  and  Athanasius,  if  it  were  he  who  wrote  the  fantastic  but 
noble  Life  of  Saint  Anthony,  applies  that  term  to  Anthony.  An- 
thony conceived  his  ascetic  life  in  the  desert  as  an  actual  warfare 
with  devils,  the  enemies  of  his  Lord.  By  his  victories  their  power 
was  weakened,  and  so  much  less  evil  could  they  work  Christ's 
followers  (see  Vita  S.  Antonii,  41).  Anthony  fights  the  good 
Christian  fight,  not  for  his  own  soul  alone.  The  story  of  Anthony  is 
throughout  a  story  of  the  life  of  a  devoted  man,  active  in  love  and 
beneficence  to  all  who  come  to  him :  "  And  it  was  as  if  a  physician 
had  been  given  by  God  to  Egypt.  For  who,  in  grief,  met  Anthony 
and  did  not  return  rejoicing?  Who  came  mourning  for  his  dead, 
and  did  not  forthwith  put  off  his  sorrow  ?  Who  came  in  anger,  and 
was  not  converted  to  friendship?  What  poor  and  low-spirited 
man  met  him,  who,  hearing  him  and  looking  upon  him,  did  not 
despise  wealth  and  console  himself  in  his  poverty?  What  monk, 
having  been  neglectful,  came  to  him,  and  became  not  stronger? 
What  young  man,  having  come  to  the  mountain  and  seen  Anthony, 
did  not  forthwith  deny  himself  pleasure,  and  love  temperance? 
Who,  when  tempted  of  a  demon,  came  to  him,  and  did  not  find  rest  ? 
And  who  came  troubled  with  doubts  and  did  not  get  quietness  of 
mind?  "  —  Vita  S.  Antonii,  87. 

Some  of  the  thoughts  inspiring  the  Vita  Antonii  reappear  in 
Jerome's  letter  to  Heliodorus  (Ep.  XIV) ,  in  which  he  exhorts  this 
wavering  monk  to  sever  all  ties  and  affections :  Do  not  mind  the 
entreaties  of  those  dependent  on  you,  come  to  the  desert  and  fight 
for  Christ's  name.  If  they  believe  in  Christ,  they  will  encourage 
you;  if  they  do  not,  —  let  the  dead  bury  their  dead.  A  monk  can- 
not be  perfect  in  his  own  land ;  not  to  wish  to  be  perfect  is  a  sin ; 
leave  all,  and  come  to  the  desert.  The  desert  loves  the  naked. 
"O  desert,  blooming  with  the  flowers  of  Christ!  O  solitude, 
whence  are  brought  the  stones  of  the  city  of  the  Great  King!  O 
wilderness  rejoicing  close  to  God!  What  would  you,  brother,  in 
the  world,  —  you  that  are  greater  than  the  world?  How  long  are 
the  shades  of  roofs  to  oppress  you?  How  long  the  dungeon  of  a 
city's  smoke  ?  Believe  me,  I  see  more  of  light !  Do  you  fear  pov- 
erty ?  Christ  called  the  poor  '  blessed.'  Are  you  terrified  at  labor  ? 
No  athlete  without  sweat  is  crowned.     Do  you  think  of  food? 


152  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

On  the  other  hand,  in  the  fifth  century,  quite  oppo- 
site causes  also  operated  to  make  monks.  From  the 
time  of  Marcus  Aurelius,  the  Roman  Empire  had  been 
weakening  in  numbers  and  in  spirit ;  its  strength  could 
be  restored  only  from  the  causes  of  its  destruction,  the 
barbarians.  A  great  ruler  like  Diocletian  could  but 
arrest  the  downfall ;  and  not  for  long  was  to  be  real- 
ized the  promise  of  renewed  imperial  prosperity  which 
Constantine's  reign  seemed  to  offer.  It  was  vain  for 
men  to  shut  their  eyes  against  the  approaching  catas- 
trophe. Alaric  sacked  Rome  in  410,  and  the  Roman 
dream  of  eternal  empire  was  broken.  So  Augustine 
began  the  composition  of  the  "  City  of  God  "  ;  it  was 
hardly  finished  when  he  lay  dying  in  his  episcopal 
city  of  Hippo  in  Africa,  with  the  Vandals  battering 
down  the  walls.  At  no  period  has  the  civilized  world 
felt  barbarian  destruction  so  closing  in  around  it. 
Romanics  orbis  ruit,  writes  Jerome.1 

The  troubled  condition  of  the  world  and  the  disastrous 
outlook  fed  monasticism.  The  athlete  of  Christ  went 
forth  from  the  community  as  from  a  bed  of  luxury. 
Now  cowards  fled  for  fear ;  and  many  gentle  souls  sought 
the  quiet  of  hermitage  or  monastery.  This  also  shows 
the  elasticity  and  adaptability  of  monasticism,  that  it 

Faith  fears  not  hunger.  Do  you  dread  the  naked  ground  for  limbs 
consumed  with  fasts?  The  Lord  lies  with  you.  Does  the  infinite 
vastness  of  the  desert  fright  you?  In  the  mind  walk  abroad  in 
Paradise.  Does  your  skin  roughen  without  baths?  Who  is  once 
washed  in  Christ  needs  not  to  wash  again.  And  in  a  word,  hear 
the  apostle  answering:  The  sufferings  of  the  present  time  are  not 
to  be  compared  with  the  glory  to  come  which  shall  be  revealed  in 
us!  You  are  too  pleasure-loving,  brother,  if  you  wish  to  rejoice  in 
this  world  and  hereafter  to  reign  with  Christ." 
i  Ep.  LX,  Ad  Heliodorum. 


vn]  ORIGINS   OF  MOXASTICISM  153 

could  gather  numbers  from  so  many  sources  and  be 
strengthened  by  the  accession  of  opposite  characters. 

Although  Christianity  was  an  active  and  militant 
religion,  a  strong  influence  making  for  the  growth  of 
monasticism  lay  in  the  impulse  given  by  the  Christian 
faith  to  the  contemplative  life.  Among  pagans  also, 
in  the  first  centuries  of  the  Christian  era,  had  come  a 
yearning  for  meditation,  as  may  be  seen  in  the  lives 
of  many  Neo-pythagoreans  and  Xeo-platonists.  There 
are  moods  of  drowsiness  rather  than  meditation,  which 
need  no  incitement  beyond  indolence.  Otherwise  the 
growth  of  the  contemplative  life  requires  a  definite 
cause.  With  the  later  schools  of  Greek  philoso- 
phy such  a  cause  lay  in  the  yearning  for  union  with 
the  divine,  and  in  the  growing  sense  of  inability  to 
reach  it  through  modes  of  active  reasoning.  Sheer 
contemplation  of  the  divine,  which  transcended  definite 
thought,  might  bring  a  vision  of  it,  with  ecstatic  frui- 
tion. Such  feelings  fostered  contemplation  among 
Neo-platonists,  who  had  but  the  great  mystic,  incon- 
ceivable, unlovable  One  to  contemplate.  But  Chris- 
tianity brought  new  thoughts  of  God,  and  a  rush  of 
loving  feeling  which  struck  the  believer's  heart  with 
a  new  passion  for  the  Omnipotent  Lover.  What 
greater  fulness  of  love  and  life,  even  here  in  the 
flesh,  than  to  dwell  in  this  ?  How  could  the  believ- 
er's thoughts  leave  it,  any  more  than  the  lover  would 
disperse  the  golden  haze  of  thought  of  the  beloved, 
which  in  her  absence  enfolds  his  being  ? 

God  was  an  exhaustless  object  of  meditation  to  He- 
brew psalmists.  Christianity  deepened  the  spiritual 
life,  and  filled  it  with  love's  realities.     Monk  and  nun 


154  THE   CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

might  live  in  contemplation  of  them.  Such  contem- 
plation filled  the  heart  as  well  as  mind, — this  sweet 
Christian  vita  contemplativa,  this  all-beloved  Rachel, 
for  whom  even  those  active  souls  who  have  Leah  for 
their  portion  must  yearn  in  spiritual  bereavement;1 
to  have  this,  is  to  be  like  Mary,  and  sit  at  the  feet 
of  the  Lord  —  and  did  not  the  Lord  say,  Mary  hath  : 
chosen  the  better  part  ? 

This  fulness  of  spiritual  life  and  love,  which  Chris- 
tianity brought,  has  always  been  a  power  making  for 
monasticism.  The  Christian  vita  contemjilativa,  with 
its  wealth  of  love  as  well  as  thought,  might  satisfy 
and  enrapture  thousands,  while  but  few  could  have 
held  to  the  pagan  {Slos  OeojprjTtKos  which  Aristotle 
declared  the  truly  human  life,  and  which  Boethius  be- 
held stamped  on  the  garments  of  Philosophy.  Women, 
as  well  as  men,  might  love  Christ  and  think  of  him 
alone ;  but  no  woman  and  few  men  could  follow  Aris- 
totle's or  Boethius'  loveless  /ftos  OeuyprjTiKos.  Even 
when  the  pagan  contemplative  life  had  become  one 
of  attempted  visioning  or  ecstasy,  as  well  as  one  of 
thought,  it  was  so  empty  of  real  and  definitely  directed 
feeling  that  it  could  not  hold  its  votaries.  Such  fan- 
tasy could  not  people  monasteries,  much  less  nunner- 
ies. In  the  Christian  vita  contemplativa,  there  often 
entered  a  love  intense  and  so  personally  directed, 
toward  the  bridegroom  Christ,  that  the  life  which  held 
such  love  was  no  life  of  ascetic  renunciation,  but  one 
filled  with  the  fruition  of  fulfilled  desire,  —  a  life 
ecstatic  rather  than  ascetic. 

1  See  a  beautiful  passage  in  Gregory  the  Great's  Ep.  I,  5,  Ad 
Teoctistam,  and  the  opening  of  Gregory's  Dialogi. 


vn]  WESTERN   MONASTICISM  155 

II.    Western  Monasticism 

The  monasticism  of  the  West  bears  the  relation  to 
Eastern  monasticism  which  so  much  that  is  Latin  bears 
to  what  is  Eastern  or  Hellenic,  —  the  suggestion  comes 
from  the  East  and  is  accepted  and  made  into  some- 
thing different  by  the  West,  which  puts  its  own  quali- 
ties into  whatever  it  receives.  No  definite  fact  or 
single  principle  distinguishes  Western  from  Eastern 
monasticism.  Monasticism  brought  from  the  East  its 
original  moods  and  aims.  Western  monasticism,  at  its 
beginning,  is  not  conscious  of  a  new  or  different  way 
of  life,  save  in  the  modification  of  some  details,  as 
where  Egyptian  diet  and  dress  were  plainly  unfit  for 
Gaul.  As  in  the  East,  so  in  the  West,  the  early  great 
founders  of  monasteries  or  monastic  orders  begin  their 
ascetic  lives  as  solitary  hermits,  with  no  such  aim  as 
the  subsequent  courses  of  their  lives  were  to  shape  for 
them.1  They  all  desire,  through  solitude  and  asceti- 
cism, to  free  themselves  from  the  lusts  of  the  flesh, 
and,  renouncing  the  world,  to  live  in  contemplation  of 
God  and  love  of  Him,  and  in  the  assurance  of  eternal 
life.2  And  as  monasteries  come  into  existence  in  the 
West,  they  are  set  far  from  cities,  with  stricter  pre- 
cautions against  corrupting  intercourse  with  the  world 
than  had  been  taken  by  the  great  regulators  of  Eastern 
monasticism.3    Not  in  its  beginnings  did  Western  mo- 

1  Pachomius  and  Basil  in  the  East,  Martin  of  Tours  and  Benedict 
of  Nursia  in  the  West. 

2  This  mood  is  so  strong  with  Gregory  the  Great  that  it  saddens 
his  entire  life  after  he  left  the  monastery  and  became  pope. 

3  Benedict's  regula  forbids  intercourse  with  the  world  more 
stringently  than  Basil.    Basil  would  have  monasteries  near  cities, 


156  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

nasticism  look  forward  to  its  career  of  world-Christian- 
ization  and  world-dominance. 

Moreover,  some  features  which  were  to  characterize 
Western  monasticism  had  previously  shown  themselves 
in  the  East.  For  example,  monastic  life  in  the  West 
was  to  be  temperate,  and  not  extravagant  in  its  austeri- 
ties. The  wild  asceticism  and  mortification  of  the 
flesh  which  had  distinguished  the  monks  of  Egypt 
and  Syria  never  flourished  in  the  West.1  But  it  had 
been  condemned  in  the  East  by  Pachomius  and  Basil 
before  the  West  possessed  communities  of  monks.2 
Again,  the  West  is  active  and  practical.  Western 
monks  were  soon  to  be  drawn  from  their  cloisters  to 
episcopal,  even  papal,  duties.  But  this  had  previously 
happened  in  the  East.  Basil  the  Great,  the  great 
monk-bishop,  preceded  Gregory  the  Great,  the  great 
monk-pope,  by  two  hundred  and  fifty  years. 

In  fine,  in  Western  monasticism  there  are  not  to  be 

so  that  monks  could  do  acts  of  charity.  He  was  also  less  stringent 
in  forbidding  intercourse  with  nuns.  See  Basil's  Regula  A,  Cap. 
33;  Regula  B,  108-111;  also  Zockler,  op.  cit.,  p.  290;  Grutzniacher, 
Bedeutung  Benedikts,  etc.,  pp.  42,  43. 

1  Many  groups  of  Eastern  hermits  have  received  their  names 
from  special  ascetic  practices;  e.g.,  the  Omophagi,  who  ate  no 
cooked  food,  Cassian,  IV,  22;  the  Grazers  (/Sockoi),  Sozomen,  Hist. 
Ecc.y  VI,  33;  or  the  Stylites,  those  who  imitated  St.  Symeon  Sty- 
lites  by  dwelling  on  tops  of  pillars;  see  Vita  Sancti  Suneonls, 
Migne,  Pair.  Lat.,  Vol.  73,  col.  326;  Delehaye,  "  Les  Stylites,  Saint 
Symeon  et  ses  imitateurs,*'  Revue  des  questions  historiques,  Vol.  57 
(1895),  pp.  52-103.  These  people,  to  be  sure,  are  hermits,  rather 
than  monks;  yet  they  constitute  groups,  and  no  group  of  hermits 
or  monks  was  ever  in  the  West  called  after  any  special  form  of 
asceticism  practised  by  them,  for  the  reason  that  extreme  and 
remarkable  forms  of  asceticism  were  not  practised  in  the  West. 

2  See  Basil,  Regula  A,  18-20;  B,  128-133. 


vn]  WESTERN  MOXASTICISM  157 

found  novel  creations,  and  new  purposes  consciously 
conceived.  What  passed  from  East  to  West  was 
altered  by  circumstances,  and  modified  by  the  Western 
character  and  the  exigencies  of  the  advance  of  Chris- 
tian civilization  among  barbarous  peoples.  Uncon- 
sciously Wester*  monasticism  became  filled  with  new 
energies  and  inspired  with  new  aims. 

Some  early  distinguishing  traits  of  Western  monas- 
ticism can  be  pointed  out.  In  the  fourth  and  fifth 
centuries,  the  Romanized  West1  retained  something 
of  the  order  and  intellectual  definiteness  which  marked 
that  most  original  creation  of  the  Latin  genius,  the 
Roman  law.  The  West  was  more  capable  than  the 
East  of  formulating  rules  of  conduct  and  of  ordering 
them  in  practical  schemes  of  living.  It  was  stronger 
than  the  East  in  the  power  of  self-control  and  self-dis- 
cipline ;  and  it  still  preserved  more  of  the  youthful 
energies  of  life.  Accordingly,  Western  monasticism 
soon  evolved  a  regular  order,  a  regular  discipline,  and 
a  power  of  obedience  and  command,  which  Eastern 
monasticism  did  not  possess.  Hence  an  ordered  and 
regular  corporate  life  was  attained,  the  members  of 
which  were  trained  in  like  effective  modes  of  discipline. 
Monks  and  abbots  became  as  privates  and  officers  of 
an  army;  they  could  carry  out  commands  and  exe- 
cute enterprises  in  obedience  to  authority.  And  that 
authority  tended  toward  a  unity  at  the  apex,  —  Rome. 
Practically  viewed,  Eastern  monasticism  remained  con- 
templative, pointless,  inefficient;  while  in  the  West 
monasticism  became  a  mighty  and  mightily  directed 

1  That  is  to  say,  North  Africa,  Gaul,  Italy,  and  Spain. 


158  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

power,  often  directed  anew  by  the  intelligence  and 
energies  and  devotion  within  itself. 

In  the  moral  life  also,  Western  monasticism  orders 
and  systematizes  its  rules.  Humility,  obedience,  chas- 
tity, and  other  Christian  virtues  had  been  inculcated 
and  practised  in  the  East.  But  in  the  West,  moral 
precepts  take  form  as  a  regular  and  possible  code  of 
daily  living  for  every  monk,  and  a  code  constituting  a 
systematic  education  in  the  Christian  life.  Moreover, 
Western  monasticism  becomes  more  completely  Chris- 
tian than  its  Eastern  prototype,  which  contained  much 
Hellenism,  and  sometimes  was  regarded  as  a  philos- 
ophy, or  as  a  way  of  life  based  on  knowledge  and 
wisdom.  Western  monasticism  tends  to  omit  the  Hel- 
lenism, while  it  codifies  the  Christian  principles  of 
Eastern  monasticism,  and  completes  them  with  more 
absolute  conceptions  of  Christian  faith  and  love,  such 
as  came  to  Augustine  and  to  those  he  influenced. 

Ascetic  tendencies  began  early  in  Latin  Christianity. 
A  wide  interest  in  the  celibate  or  virgin  life,  led  in 
retirement,  arose  in  Rome  near  the  time  of  Athana- 
sius'  sojourn  as  an  exile  there,  about  the  year  340. 
There  was  much  material  for  monasticism  whenever 
the  movement  should  seek  the  solitude  of  the  waste 
places.  These  modes  of  ascetic  living  were  encouraged 
by  the  three  great  Latin  Fathers,  Jerome,  Ambrose, 
and  Augustine,  with  whom,  two  hundred  years  after- 
ward, Gregory  the  Great  is  ranged  as  the  fourth  great 
Father  of  the  Latin  Church,  and  arch-laborer  in  the 
establishment  of  monasticism. 

Of  these  great  leaders  of  Latin  Christianity  in  the 
fourth  century,  Ambrose  directed  a  cloister  of  monks 


vii]  WESTERN  MONASTICISM  159 

near  Milan ;  Jerome  wrote  enthusiastic  and  extrava- 
gant letters  to  his  admirers,  urging  the  virgin  life, 
which  he  himself  led,  whether  in  Rome  among  ador- 
ing women,  or  in  his  cell  in  Palestine,  where  he  also 
counselled  and  directed.  The  youngest  of  this  triad, 
Augustine,  from  the  time  of  his  conversion  earnestly 
advocated  virginity.  Late  in  life  he  wrote  a  "  libellum  " 
as  a  regula  for  a  convent  of  north-African  nuns.1  The 
qualities  which  were  to  distinguish  Western  monasti- 
cism  speak  in  this  writing.  It  does  not  discuss  ;  it  is 
not  enlightening  or  educational ;  it  lays  down  rules 
for  the  nuns  to  follow  in  their  daily  life,  orders  them 
to  hear  the  "  libellum  M  read  once  a  week,  and — let  them 
give  thanks  to  God  when,  on  hearing  it,  they  find  they 
have  carried  out  its  precepts.  Augustine's  "  libellum  " 
was  not  a  comprehensive  monastic  regula  ;  but  its  di- 
rections were  clear.  Inchoate  as  it  was,  it  presented 
a  mode  of  daily  life  and  governance  which  any  nun  or 
monk  could  understand,  remember,  and  follow.  The 
Eoman  capacity  for  definite  legislative  precept  is  here. 
Before  Augustine  wrote  his  libellum,  men  who  had 
experience  in  monastic  and  anchorite  life  began  to 
write.  Eufinus,  friend  and  enemy  of  Jerome,  trans- 
lated freely  the  Regulae  of  Basil,  condensing  the 
matter,  but  introducing  no  order  into  that  chaos.2  In 
other  Western  writings  the  practical  and  legislative 
genius  of  the  West  may  be  observed  ordering  monasti- 
cism  and  preparing  it  to  be  a  way  of  life  fit  to  accom- 
plish tasks  other  than  Eastern  monks  had  dreamed  of. 

i  Ep.  211,  written  423  a.d. 

2  Printed   in   Vol.  I   of    Lucas  Holstenius,  Codex  Regularum, 
pp.  67-108,  and  made  up  of  203  Questiones  et  Responsiones. 


160  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

First  are  to  be  noticed  the  writings  of  Cassian,  the 
Western  compiler  and  arranger  of  the  data  of  monas- 
ticism ;  and  then  the  Western  regulae,  the  legislative 
documents  proper,  which  direct  and  order  the  life  of 
the  monk. 

Cassian  wrote  two  works  upon  monasticism.  The 
earlier  of  these,  written  between  the  years  419  and 
426,  was  entitled  De  institutis  Coenobiorum  et  de  octo 
principalium  vitiorum  remediis  libri  XII.1  It  pre- 
sented a  picture  of  Egyptian  monasticism.  His  later 
work,  the  Conlationes,  composed  between  426  and  428, 
purports  to  give  the  discourses  of  Egyptian  abbots, 
edifying  to  those  who  should  seek  to  perfect  them- 
selves in  monastic  virtues.  The  names  of  the  abbots 
are  given ;  and  the  Conlationes  probably  reflect  their 
utterances.2    Cassian  was  not  a  legislator,  but  a  com- 

1  For  the  life  of  Cassian,  perhaps  a  native  of  Gaul  (cir.  360- 
cir.  432) ,  see  prolegomena  to  the  translation  of  his  works  by  E.  C.  S. 
Gibson,  in  Nicene  Fathers,  Vol.  XI,  2d  series.  Cassian,  Inst.,  V, 
4,  says  that  Anthony  said  that  a  monk  should  not  go  to  one  man  to 
learn  all  the  virtues,  but  go  to  many,  seeking  to  learn  from  each 
the  virtue  in  which  he  excels.  St.  Basil  the  Great  travelled  through 
Egypt,  Palestine,  Coele-Syria,  and  Mesopotamia  to  see  saintly  ancho- 
rites and  monks.  Thus  many  finished  their  education  in  asceticism. 
Compare  also  the  trip  of  Jerome  and  Paula,  described  by  Jerome  in 
Ep.  108,  Ad  Eustochium. 

2  For  example,  he  reports  the  discourse  of  Abbot  Moses  of  the 
desert  of  Scete  upon  the  scope  and  purpose  of  monastic  life.  Says 
Moses,  in  Aristotelean-Ciceronian  way:  "  Omnes  artes  ac  discipli- 
nae  scopon  quendam,  id  est  destinationem,  et  telos,  hoc  est  finem 
propriam  habent."  The  Kingdom  of  Heaven  is  the  monk's  final 
goal ;  but  we  may  distinguish  between  that  and  the  means  which 
form  a  subsidiary  end :  "  Finis  quidem  nostrae  professionis  ut  dixi- 
mus  regnum  dei  seu  regnum  caelorum  est,  destinatio  vero,  id  est 
scopos,  puritas  cordis,  sine  qua  ad  ilium  finem  impossibile  est 
quempiam  per  venire' '  (Conl.,  I,  2-4). 


vn]  WESTERN  MONASTICISM  161 

piler  of  information.  He  does  not  give  positive  direc- 
tions for  the  daily  life  of  monks,  but  a  systematic 
presentation  of  monastic  customs.  He  may  be  ex- 
pected, also,  to  set  forth  the  ethical  principles  of 
monasticism  in  such  a  way  that  they  can  readily  be 
made  into  a  mode  of  life. 

In  the  preface  to  the  Institutes  he  says  that  he 
will  not  speak  of  the  miracles  wrought  among  the 
monks,  but  will  set  forth  the  "  institutions  and  rules 
of  their  monasteries,  and  especially  the  origins,  causes, 
and  remedies,  according  to  their  traditions,  of  the 
principal  vices,  which  they  say  are  eight."  He  believes 
that  nothing  wiser  can  be  found  for  the  West  than 
the  customs  and  rules  of  the  ancient  monasteries  of 
Egypt  or  Palestine,  except  that,  owing  to  the  difference 
of  climate  or  habits,  certain  details  may,  for  Gaul- 
ish monks,  need  to  be  balanced  by  borrowings  from 
the  other  parts  of  the  East.  Whereupon,  he  tells  in 
the  first  book  what  he  has  observed  regarding  the 
dress  of  monks  in  Egypt.  In  the  second  and  third 
books  he  describes  the  "  modus  canonicus"  of  prayers 
and  psalms  by  night  and  by  day.  The  fourth  book 
explains  more  generally  the  institutes  of  the  renun- 
ciants,  to  wit,  the  monks,  those  who  renounce  this 
world;  their  probation  before  admission;  why  they 
may  not  bring  anything  into  the  monastery;  why 
they  must  lay  aside  their  clothes  and  receive 
others  from  the  abbot;  and  other  rules  for  their 
daily  life  and  conduct.  The  author  gives  many 
examples  of  the  proficiency  of  the  Egyptian  monks 
in  virtues  of  obedience  and  humility,  and  he  quotes 
an    abbot's    discourse   to   a  candidate,   in    order    to 


162  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

show  how  true  and  spiritual  must  be  the  monk's 
renunciation.1 

The  author  passes,  at  the  beginning  of  the  fifth 
book,  to  a  discussion  of  the  eight  principal  vices  of 
monastic  life  which  are  the  following :  "primum  gas- 
trimargiae  (gluttony),  quae  interpretatur  gulae  concu- 
piscentia,  secundum  fornicationis,  tertium  Jilargyriae, 
quod  intelligitur  avaritia,  vel  ut  proprius  exprimatur, 
amor  pecuniae,  quartum  irae,  quintum  tristitiae,  sextum 
acediae,  quod  est  anxietas  sive  taedium  cordis,  septimum 
cenodoxiae,  quod  sonat  vana  seu  inanis  gloria,  octavum 
superbiae" 2 

This  series  is  given  by  two  Greeks,  Evagrius  Pon- 
ticus  (d.  cir.  401) 3  and  St.  Nilus  Abbas  (d.  cir.  430).4 
They  describe  these  eight  vices  and  speak  of  their  ill 
effects  upon  the  monk ;  they  also  mention  means  by 
which  he  may  overcome  them.  But  Evagrius  is  too 
inexplicit  to  afford  practical  help  in  daily  life;  and 
Nilus  is  discursive  and  rhetorical  in  his  comments 
on  these  vices  and  their  remedies.  He  is  also  touched 
by  the  Eastern  Hellenic  apathy  or  absence  of  desire ; 
aTraOeta,  he  says,  is  the  strong  defence  of  the  monk 
against  tristitia  (Xv-n-rj)  and  other  vices.5 

It  is  uncertain  whether   Cassian    was   acquainted 

1  On  the  three  kinds  of  call  (vocatio)  to  be  a  monk,  and  the  three 
renunciations,  see  Conl.,  Ill,  4-6;  and  compare  Basil,  "  De  renun- 
ciatione,"  Reg.fusius  {A),  8. 

2  Cassian,  Inst.,  V,  1. 

8  npb?  'AvaroXiov  nepl  tuv  6/ctw  Xoyta-fiiov    (De   OCtO    vitiosis    Cogita- 

tionibus),  GaUandus,  Biblioteca  Veterum  Patrum,  VII,  p.  575. 

4  nepi  ru>v  oktu  irvev^ariov  tt)?  novripiaq  (De  OCtO  Spiritibus  malitiae), 

Migne,  Patr.  Graec,  79,  col.  1146.    The  Greek  names  are:  yao-rpt- 

fjiapyia,  Tropreta,  <j>i\apyvpiat  bpyq,  \vnrj,  a/c7)5ia,  /ceyoSo£ia,  virep<pavCa. 

6  Nilus,  ib.,  Cap.  XII. 


: 


vn]  WESTERN   MONASTICISM  163 

with  these  writings  of  Evagrins  and  Nilus  :  his  treat- 
ment sometimes  closely  parallels  theirs  ; l  at  any  rate 
all  drew  from  the  same  general  sources.  But  the 
Latin  writer  is  more  explicit  and  systematic,  and 
more  practically  helpful  in  setting  forth  the  remedies 
and  showing  how  the  monk  may  direct  his  efforts 
toward  perfecting  himself  in  the  virtues  which  are  the 
destroyers  of  these  faults.2  His  exposition  of  the 
eight  vices  and  their  remedies  constitutes  a  coherent 
scheme  for  perfecting  the  monk  in  the  virtues  of  the 
Christian  life.  The  vices  are  treated  as  if  they  were 
spiritual  diseases  ;  rules  are  given  for  their  diagnosis  ; 
the  remedies  are  stated  with  directions  as  to  using ; 
and  a  regimen  of  virtuous  thought  and  conduct  is  set 
for  the  convalescent  soul.3 

Moreover,  Cassian's  exposition  represents  a  scheme 
of  life  in  which  the  ethical  principles  are  Christian, 
not  pagan,  stoical-eclectic  for  example.  They  are  not 
self-reliant  principles,  but  religious ;  prayer  and  the 
grace  of  God  enable  the  monk  to  fulfil  them.  And 
the  seal  of  Christianity  is  set  upon  this  monastic 
scheme  of  life  by  holding  pride  to  be  the  worst  of 
sins : 4  for  so  it  is  from  the  Christian  standpoint,  being 

1  E.g.,  compare  Evagrius,  ib.,  Cap.  VII,  on  d^Sco.  with  Cassian, 
Inst.,  X,  1-3. 

2  All  three  writers  regard  these  various  vices  sometimes  as  vices 
or  evil  thoughts  or  dispositions,  and  sometimes  as  evil  spirits,  — 

S'pivitUS ,  Trvevixa.,  Satfiuiv',  e.g.,   TropveLas  Saifioiv,  auriSias  Saifxoiv,  EvagrillS  ; 

and  notice  Nilus'  title,  and  the  title  of  Cassian  to  Books  V  to  XII 
of  the  Inst.,  "  de  spiritu  gastrimargiae,"  etc. 

8  See,  e.g.,  Cassian's  treatment  of  tristitia  and  acedia  in  Books 
IX  and  X  of  Inst.,  also,  especially,  XII,  29-33,  on  the  symptoms  and 
remedies  of  spiritual  pride. 

*In$t.t  XII.,  1  etseq. 


164  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

a  thing  self-reliant  and  God-defiant,  with  none  of  the 
spirit  of  the  little  child.  Pride  might  be  a  pagan  vir- 
tue; in  Christianity  it  could  only  be  the  worst  of  vices. 
Rooting  it  out  means  the  expulsion  of  the  pagan  spirit 
from  Christian  ethics.  In  Benedict's  still  more  con- 
structive exposition  the  chief  Christian  virtue  is  hu- 
mility, pride's  opposite. 

The  greatness  and  efficiency  of  the  regula  of  Bene- 
dict of  Nursia l  did  not  lie  in  its  inventive  originality, 
but  in  its  wise  revision  and  constructive  use  of  mo- 
nastic principles  and  experience.  A  tabulation  of  the 
special  resemblances  and  divergences  between  Bene- 
dict's regulations  and  those  of  his  predecessors  would 
not  give  an  adequate  idea  of  his  regula.  He  was  ac- 
quainted with  the  writings  of  Jerome  and  Augustine ; 
but  appears  to  have  made  chief  use  of  Basil  and  Cas- 
sian.2  It  is  doubtful  whether  he  knew  of  the  regula  of 
his  contemporary,  Csesarius  of  Aries.  Using  his  ma- 
terials with  discrimination,  he  added  to  them  from  his 
own  spiritual  life  and  from  his  experience  as  director 
of  monks. 

The  regula  of  Benedict  gained  universal  dominion 
among  the  monks  of  the  West,  superseding  other 
authorities.  Compared  with  the  regulae  of  Basil,  it 
was  as  a  clear  and  ordered  code  is  to  a  mass  of  ques- 
tions and  answers.  No  one  could  find  a  definite  and 
explicit  rule  of  conduct  in  Basil;  Benedict's  regula 
was  just  such  a  rule.  Again,  the  works  of  Cassian, 
though  systematic,  contained  no  regula.  Yet  the 
necessary  principle   of  monasticism   was   obedience; 

1 480-543  a.d.    Foundation  of  Monte  Cassino,  529  (cir.). 
2  He  read  the  regulae  of  Basil  in  Runnus*  Latin  version. 


vn]  WESTERN  MONASTICISM  165 

so  it  needed  a  definite  law  authoritatively  prescribed. 
The  rule  of  Caesarius  of  Aries  was  such ;  but  it  was 
too  short,  and  left  much  unprovided  for.1  The  rule  of 
Columban  lacked  definite  directions  for  the  details  of 
daily  living,  and  was  excessive  in  its  ascetic  demands. 
Benedict's  rule  was  wise  and  temperate,  definite  and 
explicit  in  its  regulations  for  the  guidance  of  the  monk 
through  each  hour  of  the  night  and  day. 

Where  the  regula  of  Benedict  differed  from  any  of 
these  writings,  it  differed  by  containing  more  of  the 
distinguishing  qualities  of  the  Latin  West.  It  embod- 
ied and  expressed  these  in  so  far  as  they  were  passing 
into  monasticism.  The  Roman  qualities  which  made 
the  Roman  law  practical,  definite,  orderly,  and  compre- 
hensible, appear  in  Benedict's  regula,  and  distinguish 
it  from  the  regulae  of  Basil.  The  authoritativeness 
of  Rome  distinguished  Benedict's  regula  from  the  In- 
stitutes and  Conlationes  of  Cassian ;  it  was  law  and 
not  discussion.  Its  sufficiency  of  detail  and  clear 
definiteness  made  it  practical  and  Roman,  while  dis- 
tinguishing it  from  the  regulae  of  Augustine,  Caesarius, 
and  Columban.  And  Benedict's  regula  was  sufficiently 
strict,  sufficiently  stern,  and  adapted  to  the  character 
and  needs  of  Western  monasticism.  Few  writings  can 
be  compared  with  it  for  effective  combination  of  re- 
ligious precept  and  practical  direction.  Discretione 
praecipua,  sermone  luculenta,  is  Gregory's  comment  on 
it.2 

Potent  influences  made  for  its  dominance ;  it  was 

1  It  is  not  over  two  folio  pages  in  length.  See  Holstenius,  Codex 
Reyularum,  I,  pp.  145-147;  Migne,  Patr.  Lat.,  67,  col.  1098. 

2  Dialog.,  II,  Chap.  36. 


166  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

authoritatively  recommended  by  Gregory  the  Great. 
Wheresoever  his  activity  reached,  there  reached  his 
influence  in  favor  of  monasticism  and  the  regula  of 
Benedict.1  His  successors  also  zealously  favored  it. 
Gregory  and  his  successors,  however,  did  not  happen 
accidentally  to  advocate  Benedict's  rule  instead  of 
some  other,  but  because  it  was  the  best.  The  fame  of 
Benedict's  piety  and  of  the  miracles  ascribed  to  him 
may  at  first  have  promoted  the  acceptance  of  his 
regula,  which  in  turn  increased  the  marvels  of  the 
great  saint's  legend. 

In  order  to  make  clear  some  of  the  qualities  of  the 
Benedicti  regula  monachorum,  its  ethical  precepts  may 
be  noticed,  and  then  the  character  of  its  more  specific 
regulations.  The  former  are  contained  mainly  in  the 
prologue  and  in  the  fourth  to  the  seventh  chapters, 
and  thus  are  grouped  together  in  the  first  part  of  the 
regula.  In  spirit  and  letter  these  precepts  are  reli- 
gious and  Christian,  with  no  trace  of  stoico-pagan  feel- 
ing or  principles.  They  are  simple  and  frequently 
Biblical  in  phrase.  Considered  individually,  they  are 
direct,  pertinent  to  daily  life,  and  widely  applicable ; 
collectively,  they  constitute  a  complete  scheme  of  re- 
ligious ethics  and  a  consistent  mode  of  holy  living.2 

1  Thus  the  regula  of  Benedict  reached  England  with  Augustine 
of  Canterbury.  See,  generally,  Griitzmacher,  Bedeutung,  etc., 
pp.  51-71,  who,  however,  underestimates  the  effect  of  the  distin- 
guishing qualities  of  the  regula  itself.  An  important  circumstance 
was  that  the  monks  of  Monte  Cassino,  after  the  destruction  of  their 
monastery  by  the  Lombards  in  580,  went  to  Rome,  and  were  given 
a  cloister  near  the  Lateran  by  Pope  Pelagius,  Gregory's  predecessor. 
Gregory  became  pope  in  592. 

2  Gregory  says  that  Benedict's  regula  was  a  reflection  of  his  life. 


vn]  WESTERN  MONASTICISM  167 

"  Hear,  0  son,  the  precepts  of  the  master  and 
incline  the  ear  of  thy  heart ; 1  freely  accept  and  fulfil 
the  admonitions  of  the  good  father,  that  through  the 
labor  of  obedience  (oboedientiae  labor  em)  thou  mayest 
return  to  Him  from  whom  thou  hast  departed  through 
the  desire  of  disobedience."  Thus  the  prologue  opens 
with  words  of  exhortation  addressed  to  those  who 
would  renounce  their  own  wills  and  take  up  the  arms 
of  obedience  to  fight  under  the  Lord  Christ,  and  in  all 
their  strivings  turn  to  him  with  instant  prayer.  The 
prologue  sustains  throughout  the  opening  note  of 
exhortation,  and  speaks  in  tones  adapted  to  impress 
an  humble,  obedient  and  devoted  mood  upon  the 
hearer:  Let  not  our  evil  acts  distress  Him  who 
thought  us  worthy  to  be  called  sons ;  that  the  angered 
father  may  not  disinherit  his  sons,  nor  the  angry  lord 
give  over  to  everlasting  punishment  those  wicked 
servants  who  will  not  follow  him  to  glory.2  Let  us 
arise  from  sleep,  as  the  Scriptures  bid  us,  —  and  keep 
our  tongues  from  evil.  Lord,  who  shall  dwell  in  thy 
tabernacle  ?  Brothers,  hear  the  Lord  answering : 
He  who  goes  without  spot  and  works  justice ;  who, 
speaks  truth  in  his  heart,  and  whose  tongue  speaks 
no  guile ;  who  does  no  evil  to  his  neighbor;  those  who, 
fearing  the  Lord,  are  not  elated  over  their  due  obser- 
vances, but,  knowing  they  can  do  nothing  good  in 
themselves,  say  with  the  prophet :  Not  unto  us,  0 
Lord,  not  unto  us,  but  unto  Thy  name  give  glory. 

The  Lord  says  in  the  gospel,  Whoso  heareth  My 

1  Cf.  Psalm  xliv.  11  and  Jerome,  Ep.  22, 1. 

2  God  is  looked  to  both  as  master  and  as  father  through  these 
opening  paragraphs. 


168  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

words  and  doeth  them,  I  will  liken  him  unto  a  wise 
man  who  built  his  house  upon  a  rock.  Behold,  for 
the  correction  of  sins,  the  day  of  this  life  is  accorded 
unto  us,  as  the  kind  Lord  says,  I  desire  not  the  death 
of  a  sinner,  but  that  he  should  be  converted  and  live. 
Therefore,  let  our  hearts  and  bodies  be  prepared  to 
carry  on  the  warfare  of  obedience  ;  and  what  to  our 
nature  is  impossible,  we  must  ask  of  the  grace  of 
God. 

The  fourth  chapter  is  a  statement  of  the  rules  of 
the  Christian  life  (instrumenta  artis  spiritualis)  — 
in  primis  to  love  the  Lord  God  with  all  thy  heart  and 
thy  neighbor  as  thyself.  Then,  not  to  kill  or  steal  or 
commit  adultery,  and  what  we  would  not  have  done 
to  us  not  to  do  to  others ;  to  deny  ourselves  and  fol- 
low Christ ;  to  chasten  the  body  and  love  fasting ;  to 
refresh  the  poor,  clothe  the  naked,  comfort  the 
sorrowing;  to  keep  oneself  a  stranger  to  temporal 
affairs  (saeculi  actibus  se  facere  alienum) ;  to  set  nothing 
before  the  love  of  Christ ;  to  hold  no  anger,  nor  false- 
ness ;  not  to  return  evil  for  evil,  to  suffer  injury  with 
patience ;  to  love  enemies  ;  to  bless  those  who  revile  ; 
not  to  be  proud  or  drunken,  or  gluttonous,  or  sleepy 
or  sluggish,  or  a  grumbler  or  backbiter;  to  hope  in 
God;  to  attribute  the  good  in  us  to  God,  knowing 
that  our  acts  are  always  evil ;  to  fear  the  day  of 
judgment,  tremble  at  Hell  (gehennam),  ardently  de- 
sire eternal  life,  with  the  expectation  of  death  daily 
with  us ;  to  know  that  God  sees  us  everywhere ;  to 
bring  to  Christ  the  evil  thoughts  coming  to  our  hearts 
and  disclose  them  to  our  spiritual  superior ;  to  keep 
our  mouths  from  evil  or  foolish  speech,  and  not  love 


vn]  WESTERN  MOXASTICISM  169 

much  speaking,  or  utter  words  causing  laughter;  to 
hear  the  holy  readings  (lectiones  sandas)  willingly ; 
to  be  diligent  in  prayer;  daily  with  tears  to  confess 
our  sins  in  prayer  to  God  ;  not  to  do  the  desires  of  the 
flesh ;  to  hate  our  own  will ;  to  obey  the  words  of  the 
abbot,  though  he  do  otherwise  himself ;  to  wish  to  be 
holy  sooner  than  to  be  called  so ;  to  fulfil  the  com- 
mands of  God  in  daily  acts,  love  chastity,  hate  no 
one,  have  no  envy,  love  not  strife,  avoid  conceit,  ven- 
erate the  elders,  love  the  juniors,  pray  for  enemies  in 
the  love  of  Christ,  agree  with  thine  adversary,  and 
never  despair  of  the  mercy  of  God. 

If  all  these  instrumenta  artis  spiritualis  are  sedu- 
lously fulfilled  by  us  day  and  night,  that  reward  shall 
be  ours  from  the  Lord,  as  He  has  promised ;  what  eye 
hath  not  seen,  nor  ear  hath  heard,  which  God  hath 
prepared  for  those  who  love  Him. 

The  fifth  chapter  is  devoted  to  the  mighty  virtue  of 
obedience,  —  oboedientia  sine  mora  —  so  befitting  those 
who  deem  nothing  dearer  to  them  than  Christ.  For 
the  sake  of  the  sacred  service  which  they  have  pro- 
fessed, or  from  fear  of  hell  or  for  the  glory  of  life 
eternal,  as  soon  as  anything  is  commanded  by  a 
superior  (a  majore),  as  if  it  was  divinely  ordered,  let 
him  make  no  delay  in  doing  it.  Those  upon  whom 
presses  the  love  of  attaining  eternal  life,  who  do  not 
follow  their  own  decision  or  obey  their  own  desires, 
but  walk  according  to  the  judgment  and  bidding  of 
another,  living  in  monasteries  (in  coenobiis),  desire  an 
abbot  to  be  over  them.  Surely  these  imitate  Him 
who  said,  I  came  not  to  do  My  own  will,  but  the  will 
of  Him  who  sent  me.     Such  obedience  will  be  accepta- 


170 


THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE 


[chap. 


ble  to  God  and  sweet  to  men,  if  what  is  ordered  is 
performed  non  trepide,  non  tepicle,  non  tarde,  aut  cum 
murmorio.  The  obedience  which  is  yielded  to  supe- 
riors (majoribus)  is  offered  to  God;  for  He  Himself 
said :  Whoso  heareth  you,  heareth  Me ;  and,  God 
loveth  a  cheerful  giver.  But  if  the  disciple  obeys 
with  a  bad  will,  and  with  murmuring,  he  will  not  be 
accepted  of  God  nor  will  grace  come  to  him  from  his 
act ;  and  he  will  incur  the  penalty  of  those  who  mur- 
mur, unless  he  make  amends. 

The  prologue  of  Benedict's  regula  exhorts  the 
hearers,  affects  their  mood,  and  impels  them  toward 
ready  acceptance  of  all  that  follows  :  the  fourth  chap- 
ter contains  the  sum  of  the  precepts  constituting  the 
piety  of  a  monk ;  while  the  fifth  and  sixth  speak 
more  specifically  of  obedience  and  silence.  The 
seventh  chapter  is  in  itself  an  ethical  system  in  which 
one  virtue,  that  is,  one  fundamental  principle  of  mo- 
nastic piety,  is  analytically  expanded,  to  show  that  its 
fulfilment  includes  and  requires  a  complete  Christian 
life.  This  chapter  "  on  the  twelve  stairs  of  humility  " 
is  the  great  example  of  how  the  precepts  of  monastic 
and  Christian  living,  having  been  gathered  and  sys- 
tematized by  others,  are  by  Benedict's  regula  made 
anew  into  an  organic  unity  fitted  to  constitute  the 
life  of  a  Christian  monk.  This  chapter  pictures  a 
type  of  character. 

The  divine  Scripture  calls  to  us,  brothers,  saying : 
Every  one  that  exalteth  himself  shall  be  abased,  and 
he  that  humbleth  himself  shall  be  exalted.  Thus  it 
shows  us  that  every  exaltation  is  a  kind  of  pride. 
Therefore,  brothers,  if  we  wish  to  touch  the  summit 


vn]  WESTERN    MONASTICISM  171 

of  complete  humility  and  reach  that  heavenly  exalta- 
tion to  which  we  ascend  through  the  humility  of  the 
present  life,  we  must  by  our  ascending  acts  erect 
those  stairs  which  appeared  in  Jacob's  dream,  on 
which  the  angels  were  shown  to  him  descending  and 
ascending.  By  this  we  should  understand  descent 
through  exaltation  and  ascent  through  humility.  The 
upright  stairway  is  our  life  on  earth,  which  a  heart 
humbled  by  the  Lord  raises  to  heaven.  The  sides 
of  this  stairway  we  call  our  body  and  soul ;  in  them 
the  divine  summons  (evocatio)  sets  the  stairs  of  hu- 
mility or  discipline  to  be  ascended. 

The  first  stair  of  humility  is,  if,  setting  the  fear 
of  God  continually  before  our  eyes,  we  never  forget 
His  commands,  always  remembering  that  those  who 
despise  Him  go  to  Hell  because  of  their  sins,  and 
that  eternal  life  is  prepared  for  those  who  fear  Him : 
and  we  must  guard  ourselves  every  hour  from  sins 
and  faults  of  thought,  tongue,  eye,  hand,  foot,  will,  and 
cut  off  the  desires  of  the  flesh,  knowing  that  we  and 
our  deeds  are  always  beheld  by  Him  and  told  Him 
by  the  angels. 

The  second  stair  of  humility  is,  if  any  one,  loving 
not  his  own  will,  delights  not  in  fulfilling  his  desires, 
but  imitates  in  his  deeds  that  saying  of  the  Lord,  I 
came  not  to  do  my  own  will,  but  His  who  sent  me. 

The  third  stair  is,  that  each  for  the  love  of  God, 
should  subject  himself  in  all  obedience  to  his  superior 
(major i),  imitating  the  Lord,  of  whom  the  Apostle 
says,  He  made  Himself  obedient  to  the  Father  unto 
death. 

The  fourth  stair  is,  if  in  hard  and  vexatious  matters, 


172  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

and  even  when  suffering  undeserved  injuries,  we  obey- 
readily,  and  weary  not,  nor  turn  aside :  He  who  per- 
severes to  the  end  shall  be  saved.1 

The  fifth  stair  is,  if  we  conceal  no  evil  thought  or 
privily  committed  sin  when  humbly  confessing  to  the 
abbot. 

The  sixth  stair  is,  if  the  monk  is  content  under 
every  deprivation  and  indignity  and  whatever  is  im- 
posed upon  him,  and  deems  himself  as  but  a  bad 
workman. 

The  seventh  stair  is,  if  the  monk  not  only  call 
himself  least  and  vilest  of  all,  but  believe  it  in  his 
heart. 

The  eighth  stair  is,  if  the  monk  does  nothing  save 
what  the  regula  of  the  monastery  or  the  example  of 
the  elders  bids  him. 

The  ninth  stair  is,  if  the  monk  keeps  his  tongue 
from  speaking,  and  preserves  silence  until  questioned. 
The  tenth  is,  if  he  be  not  prone  to  laughter;  the 
eleventh  is,  when  the  monk  speaks,  that  he  speak 
gently  and  humbly  with  gravity,  in  few  words  and 
rationally. 

The  twelfth  stair  is,  if  the  monk  not  only  in  his 
heart,  but  in  his  demeanor,  show  humility  always  — 
in  God's  work,  in  the  oratory,  in  the  monastery,  in 
the  garden,  in  the  road,  in  the  field,  or  wherever  he 
may  be,  and  always  stand  or  walk  with  head  inclined 
and  with  looks  fixed  upon  the  ground.     At  all  times 

1  Here  and  elsewhere,  when  I  have  tried  to  translate  the  sub- 
stance of  Benedict's  paragraphs,  I  have  omitted  for  the  sake  of 
brevity  a  number  of  Scripture  quotations,  which  are  admirably 
chosen. 


vn]  WESTERN  MONASTICISM  173 

he  should  judge  himself  guilty  of  his  sins,  saying  in 
his  heart  with  the  publican  in  the  gospel,  Lord,  I  a 
sinner  am  unworthy  to  lift  my  eyes  to  the  heavens. 

The  monk  who  rises  by  all  these  stairs  of  humility 
will  quickly  reach  that  perfect  love  of  God  which 
sends  away  fear,  whereby  all  those  things  which 
formerly  he  kept  to,  not  without  trembling,  he  will 
begin  to  guard  without  any  labor,  naturally  from 
habit,  not  now  from  fear  of  Hell,  but  from  love  of 
Christ  and  delight  in  the  virtues.1 

The  precepts  of  Benedict's  rule  are  strikingly  posi- 
tive, prescribing  rather  than  forbidding.  The  great 
abbot  knew  that  vices  are  best  eradicated  by  cultiva- 
tion of  the   opposite  positive  virtues.     So  his  great 

1  With  Benedict's  chapter  on  humility  compare  Cassian,  Inst., 
IV,  32-43,  especially  Chap.  33,  which  contains  a  like  arrangement 
of  the  humilities.  These  chapters  of  Cassian  purport  to  contain 
the  discourse  of  an  Egyptian  ahbot  to  a  young  monk.  The  sum- 
mary at  the  end  of  Chap.  43  is  interesting  in  form:  ''Audi  ergo 
paucis  ordinem,  per  quern  scandere  ad  perfectionem  summam  sine 
ullo  labore  ac  difficultate  praevaleas.  Principium  nostrae  salutis 
ac  sapientiae  secundum  scripturas  timor  domini  est.  De  timore 
domini  nascitur  compunctio  salutaris.  De  conpunctione  cordis  pro- 
cedit  abrenuntiatio,  id  est  nuditas  et  contemptus  omnium  faculta- 
tum.  De  nuditate  humilitas  procreatur.  De  humilitate  generator 
mortirlcatio  voluntatum.  Mortincatione  voluntatum  exstirpantur 
at  que  marcescunt  universa  vitia.  Expulsione  vitiorum  virtutes 
fruticant  atque  succrescunt.  Pullulatione  virtutum  puritas  cordis 
adquiritur.  Puritate  cordis  apostolicae  caritatis  perfectio  posside- 
tur."  The  form  of  this  summary  recalls  to  mind  Gotama's  Chain 
of  Causation;  see  Taylor,  Ancient  Ideals,  I,  p.  87.  Doubtless,  the 
symbolical  number  twelve  —  twelve  stairs  of  humility  —  contributed 
to  the  observance  of  the  seventh  chapter  of  Benedict's  regula,  just 
as  the  fact  that  Chap.  4  contained  seventy-tico  "  instrumenta  artis 
spiritualis"  impressed  that  chapter  on  mediaeval  minds,  who  were 
so  fond  of  certain  significant  numbers. 


174  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

seventh  chapter  says  little  of  that  chief  of  vices,  pride  ; 
but  shows  how  to  develop  to  the  full  that  chief  Chris- 
tian virtue,  humility,  which  will  leave  no  place  for 
pride.  The  monk's  soul  shall  be  filled  with  virtue, 
and  not  merely  void  of  vice.  His  life  shall  be  positive 
and  not  negative.1 

Having  thus  set  the  principles  of  the  monk's  right- 
eousness so  as  to  form  a  way  of  living,  the  monastic 
lawgiver  has  yet  an  important  task.  The  monk's 
heart  is  inclined  to  listen ;  he  has  received  his  lessons 
in  the  principles  of  his  righteousness,  — he  is  humble 
and  obedient.  But  the  days  and  hours  of  his  life 
need  definite  regulation ;  for  his  rule  of  life  is  humil- 
ity and  obedience,  and  he  must  have  detailed  orders, 
in  the  carrying  out  of  which  he  may  know  that  he 
is  always  obeying.  Hereby  will  each  monk,  and,  in 
greater  measure,  the  order  collectively,  gain  the  habit 
and  form  of  disciplined  and  efficient  obedience. 

The  remaining  and  by  far  the  larger  part  of  Bene- 
dict's rule  is  taken  up  with  definite  directions  for  each 
hour  of  the  day  and  night.  And  as  Benedict's  con- 
structive righteousness  appears  in  his  statement  of 
general  principles,  so  equal  practical  wisdom  and  mod- 
eration, combined  with  requisite  disciplinary  strictness, 
are  shown  throughout  the  more  detailed  regulations  for 
the  government  of  the  monastery  and  the  lives  of  the 
monks.  Those  general  principles  had  for  their  aim 
the  attainment  to  the  love  of  God  and  life  eternal 
through  the  cultivation  of  the  Christian  virtues ;  the 

1  The  spirit  of  Benedict's  rule  is  in  accord  with  the  Augustinian 
conception  of  sin  as  deficiency,  —  the  absence  of  righteousness  and 
love  of  God. 


vii]  WESTERN  MONASTICISM  175 

detailed  regulations  have  likewise  the  purpose  of  per- 
fecting the  monk  in  these  virtues,  that  they  may  work 
their  perfect  work.1 

The  rule  provides  for  the  choice  of  an  abbot,  and 
points  out  what  qualities  he  should  possess  and  how 
he  should  rule.2  That  the  choice  might  fall  on  one  of 
the  younger  monks,  and  that  they  also  might  speak  in 
the  counsel  of  the  brothers,3  was  likely  to  make  for 
progress.  On  the  other  hand,  the  principle  of  sub- 
ordination, for  the  most  part  of  younger  to  older 
monks,  was  recognized  in  orders  of  precedence  estab- 
lished among  them.4  Moreover,  the  abbot  is  to  be 
obeyed  as  the  representative  of  the  Lord;  and  be- 
tween him  and  the  monks  were  ranged  the  praepositus 
and  the  deacons,  to  aid  his  administration  of  the 
monastery. 

The  mode  of  receiving  candidates,  and  their  dis- 
cipline until  the  time  of  taking  the  threefold  vow  of 
stabilitas,  conversio  morum,  and  oboedientia,  is  carefully 
regulated.5  And  the  regula  has  definite  and  detailed 
provision  for  all  matters  which  make  up  the  substance 
of  monastic  life.  For  example,  it  regulates  the  psalms 
and  prayers  and  readings  for  the  hours  of  the  day  and 
night,  and  for  the  different  times  and  seasons ;  also 
the  punishments  for  lighter  and  more  serious  faults  in 
monks,  extending  to  expulsion  from  the  order;  the 
care  of  the  sick,  the  cooking,  and  other  necessary 
work  for  the  monastery ;  the  meals  and  the  measure 
and  character  of  the  monks'  food  and  drink,  their 
hours  of  daily  labor,  their  garments,  their  manner  of 

1  Cf .  Chap.  73.  2  Chaps.  2  and  64.  *  Chap.  3. 

*  Chap.  63.  5  Chap.  58. 


176  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

sleeping,  and  their  conduct  when  away  from  the 
monastery;  also  the  reception  of  strangers,  and  the 
relations  of  the  monks  toward  outsiders.  Monks 
might  not  own  property ; x  but  this  restriction  did  not 
apply  to  the  monastery. 

Through  these  practical  regulations  run  deep  chords 
of  Christian  piety ;  all  acts  are  to  be  done  in  the  spirit 
of  the  principles  of  the  regula,  that  is,  in  the  spirit  of 
humility  and  Christian  love,  and  the  following  of 
Christ.  "Let  the  Cellararius  (steward)  of  the  monas- 
tery be  chosen  from  the  congregation,  wise,  sober, 
temperate,  not  purled  up,  nor  turbulent  nor  insolent 
nor  wasteful,  but  fearing  God,  —  who  shall  be  a 
father  to  all  the  congregation.  Let  him  not  afflict 
the  brothers ;  if  a  brother  asks  what  is  unreasonable, 
he  should  not  spurn  the  request,  but,  explaining  with 
humility,  he  may  deny  what  is  ill-asked."  2  Such  a 
man  shall  the  Cellararius  be ;  and  likewise  the  por- 
tarius  (doorkeeper),  senex  sapiens  qui  sciat  accipere 
responsum  et  red&ere?  Regarding  the  treatment  of 
strangers  applying  at  the  monastery  :  "  Let  all  strang- 
ers be  received  as  Christ,  because  he  himself  shall  say, 
'  I  was  a  stranger,  and  ye  took  me  in.? "  * 

Notwithstanding  its  directness  as  a  moral  code  and 
its  detailed  regulation  of  monastic  life,  the  regula  of 
Benedict  was  such  that  further  aims  than  it  expressed 
could  be  introduced  among  the  companies  of  monks 
who  lived  according  to  its  commands.  The  regula 
said  nothing  of  the  pursuit  of  learning,  or  of  the 
missionary  and  civilizing  activity  of  monks.  It  did 
prescribe  manual  labor ;  and  also  made  provision  for 

i  Chap.  33.  2  chap.  31.  «  Chap.  66.  4  Chap.  53. 


vn]  WESTERN  MONASTICISM  177 

the  study  of  Scripture  and  the  writings  of  the  Fathers.1 
Otiositas  intmica  est  animae,  et  ideo  certis  temporibus 
occupari  debent  fratres  in  labore  manum,  certis  iterum 
horis  in  lectione  divina : 2  and  therefore  it  fixes  the 
hours  of  manual  labor  and  of  divina  lectio  for  the  dif- 
ferent seasons  of  the  year.  All  labor  was  not  the 
same;  the  heavier  labors  of  the  field  were  not  re- 
quired of  the  weak ; 3  and  if  there  were  artifices 
among  the  monks,  they  might  humbly  ply  their  arts, 
and  the  product  should  be  sold  at  a  low  price  for  the 
monastery.4  There  was  nothing  in  the  regula  which 
should  forbid  monks,  under  the  abbot's  approval, 
turning  from  the  labor  of  the  plough  to  the  labor  of 
the  pen,  after  Cassiodorus  and  others  had  shown  the 
Benedictines  this  way  of  serving  God. 

The  regula  of  Benedict  drew  stricter  bands  of  clos- 
ure than  the  regulae  of  Basil.  The  Benedictine  mon- 
astery should  include  all  necessaries  for  the  monks, 
"that  there  may  be  no  need  of  their  wandering 
abroad,  which  does  not  profit  their  souls."  5  More- 
over, when  strangers  were  received  within  the  walls, 
no  monk,  unless  directed,  could  associate  or  speak 
with  them ; 6  nor  could  a  monk  receive  letters  from 
parents  or  others  in  the  world,  without  the  abbot's 
permission.7  And  his  vows  of  obedience  to  the  regula. 
once  finally  made,  were  irrevocable.  This  all  helped 
to  perfect  discipline.  Seclusion  from  the  world  was 
for  the  monk's  salvation,  which,  however,  demanded 
also  that  the  monk  should  do  the  will  of  Christ.  And 
the  closure  provisions  of  Benedict's  regula  held  greater 

i  See  Chap.  73.        *  Chap.  48.        »  Chap.  48.        *  Chap.  57. 
5  Chap.  66.  6  Chap.  53.  '  Chap.  54. 


178  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

possibilities  for  monastic  action  upon  the  world  than 
Basil's  laxer  rules.  Impelled  by  exigencies  which 
were  opportunities,  the  genius  of  the  West  was  to 
enter  into  Benedict's  monastic  rule,  and  find  it  to  be 
a  goodly  mode  of  life,  in  which  he  who  would  could 
serve  God  mightily  in  missionary  labors  among  bar- 
barians, as  well  as  in  prayer  and  contemplation,  or  by 
copying  manuscripts  in  the  cloister. 


III.  TJie  Monastic  Character 

Monasticism  and  dogma,  these  are  two  great  legacies 
bequeathed  by  the  transition  centuries  to  the  Middle 
Ages :  dogma  the  interpretation  of  Christianity  in  doc- 
trinal formulation,  monasticism  the  interpretation  of 
Christianity  in  a  way  of  life,  the  chief  practical  mode 
of  Christianity  set  by  the  transition  centuries  and 
accepted  by  the  Middle  Ages  as  the  perfect  Christian 
life.  Dogma  was  expressed  in  terms  of  Greek  philoso- 
phy ;  but  pagan  elements  have  been  eliminated  from 
monasticism.  It  is  the  contrast  of  contrasts  with  all 
that  is  antique.  Although  not  a  complete  interpreta- 
tion of  Christianity,  still  it  is  Christian.  And  one  rea- 
son why  the  man  of  the  Middle  Ages  in  his  religious 
thought  and  feeling  is  less  pagan  than  the  Graeco- 
Eoman  Christians  of  the  third,  fourth,  or  fifth  centu- 
ries lies  in  the  fact  that  the  Middle  Ages  received 
Christianity  through  monasticism  and  looked  to  that 
as  the  ideal  Christian  life. 

The  monastic  life,  as  it  assumed  definite  form  under 
the  regula  of  Benedict,  might  hold  divergent  motives. 


vn]  THE   MONASTIC   CHARACTER  179 

Its  strength  and  inspiration  was  the  love  of  God  and 
the  desire  of  an  eternal  life  wherein  the  chief  element 
of  bliss  should  be  the  love  of  God  more  nearly  realized 
in  ecstasy  and  vision.  On  earth,  the  love  of  God  must 
be  fostered,  and  the  conditions  of  attainment  of  eter- 
nal life  must  be  fulfilled,  in  the  spirit  and  according 
to  the  precepts  of  Christ  as  interpreted  in  the  transi- 
tion centuries.  Western  monasticism  takes  its  form 
from  the  interpretation  of  Christianity  by  the  Latin 
Fathers  and  the  Western  monastic  regulators,  who  un- 
consciously modify  and  add  to  the  interpretations  of 
the  East.  Its  constant  endeavor  is  to  eliminate  the 
emotions  and  desires  which  oppose  entire  consecration 
to  the  love  of  God  and  the  attainment  of  eternal  life ; 
and  to  cultivate  the  human  qualities  which  serve  these 
final  ends,  and  the  relationships  with  fellow-men  which 
fulfil  the  love  of  God  in  love  of  man  according  to  the 
words  of  Christ. 

Chief  among  the  emotions  and  desires  —  to  wit,  the 
lusts  —  to  be  eliminated  was  passionate  love  between 
the  sexes.  Hence  one  most  holy  form  of  human  love 
was  excommunicated  from  the  perfect  Christian  life. 
The  reasons  for  this  rejection  include  well  nigh  all 
the  causes  of  monasticism  heretofore  discussed.  All 
sexual  desire  was  condemned,  every  mode  of  life  in- 
volving it  was  excluded,  and  whatever  might  occasion 
it  was  forbidden.  Mainly  to  this  end  was  the  monk's 
diet  regulated,  his  fasts  prescribed,  and  his  intercourse 
with  the  world  restricted. 

Sexual  desire  was  evil.  Moreover,  marriage  and  the 
claims  of  family  were  an  impediment  to  a  life  led  in 
devotion  to  the  love  of  God.      Consequently  monasti- 


180  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

cism  barred  or  sternly  held  in  check  the  love  spring- 
ing from  ties  of  blood,  the  father's  love,  the  mother's, 
the  son's,  the  daughter's,  the  brother's,  the  sister's. 
There  was  no  sensual  lust  in  these ;  yet  any  one  of 
them  might  distract  the  soul.  Gluttony  was  also  evil 
in  itself  and  conducive  to  still  more  evil  lust.  It 
should  be  checked  by  sparing  diet  and  set  fasts.  An- 
ger was  likewise  evil.  There  could  be  no  place  in  the 
monk's  heart  for  this  passion  having  ill  as  its  desire. 
Nor  might  the  monk  be  covetous,  a  base  and  selfish 
feeling,  involving  lust  for  the  vainglories  of  this  life, 
manifestly  distracting  from  devotion  to  God's  glory, — 
indeed,  a  passion  fastening  the  monk  to  earth.  Top- 
ping all  other  sins  was  pride,  the  swelling  vanity  of 
self-reliance  and  self-love,  an  obstacle  to  any  right 
attitude  of  the  Christian  soul.  These  vices  might  be 
suppressed  and  yet  the  soul  be  barren  if  it  were  rest- 
less and  despondent  over  the  lost  vanities  of  life  and 
the  tardy  coming  of  the  love  of  God.  This  was  failure 
in  devotion,  emptiness,  when  the  soul  should  be  filled 
with  love  of  God. 

The  soul  pure  from  fleshy  lusts,  nor  distracted  by 
affections  leading  aside  from  God ;  the  soul  which 
knows  not  anger,  and  does  not  desire  the  glittering 
vanities  of  life,  which  is  not  puffed  up  in  conceit,  and 
yet  has  all  devotion's  energy,  —  this  soul  is  a  fit  recep- 
tacle for  the  holy  spirit  and  the  grace  of  God.  Ener- 
getic, yet  not  trusting  in  itself,  devoted,  yet  unto 
nothing  save  what  comes  from  God  and  leads  to  Him, 
hopeful  and  proud  in  Him  alone,  this  soul  is  strong  in 
faith,  obedience,  and  humility.  The  spirits  of  these 
virtues  unite  in  love  of  their  great  end  and  aim  and 


Vii]  THE   MONASTIC  CHARACTER  181 

source  and  sanction,  —  God.  The  soul  has  nothing  in 
and  through  itself,  but  all  from  God  and  in  Him.  He 
is  its  life,  its  joy,  its  love,  its  contemplation,  as  it  waits 
expectant  on  His  grace  to  do  His  will.  And  God  so 
great,  so  infinite,  so  near,  so  guarding  and  caretaking, 
so  closely  loving,  who  suffered  for  every  man  and 
every  woman  —  to  such  a  God  such  a  soul  clings  in 
the  passion  of  devotion,  begotten  by  God's  love.  It 
will  dwell  ever  in  the  thought  of  Him,  a  happy  pil- 
grim moving  along  the  sweet,  quiet,  yearning  ways  of 
the  Christian  vita  contemplative^ 

Yet  this  soul  dwells  also  in  the  flesh,  among  fellow- 
sojourners.  It  is  human,  and  its  great  relationship 
to  God  must  be  in  part  reflected  and  fulfilled  in  con- 
sistent relationships  toward  men.  As  the  Christian 
spirit  lived  through  its  desert  hermit  life  and  re- 
gained its  sanity  and  wholeness,  this  became  clear  to 
monasticism.  The  relationship  of  the  soul  to  God 
was  supreme;  relationships  toward  men  must  never 
ignore  their  final  end,  the  fulfilment  of  the  relation- 
ship to  God.  To  order  and  adjust  them  to  this  end 
was  the  problem ;  its  solution  was  the  cloister,  where 
the  lives  of  all  reflect  the  love  of  God  in  human  rela- 
tionships. The  monk  shall  love  his  brethren  unto  God, 
exercising  obedience  and  humility,  in  the  energy  of 
love  and  patience.  This  is  the  key  to  monastic  organ- 
ization and  its  rules.  The  love  of  God,  the  attain- 
ment of  eternal  life  in  Him,  is  the  monk's  end  and 
aim ;  he  cannot  love  his  brethren  or  himself  save  in 
love  ordered  toward  this  end ;  he  must  love  himself, 
and  them  as  himself,  unto  this  end.  Therefore  it  is 
his  brother's  spiritual  welfare,  as  his  own,  that  his 


182  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

love  serves ;  it  cannot  cherish  evil  in  the  brother  or 
himself,  or  aught  distracting  from  the  common  end. 
In  love  and  humility  toward  God  and  man,  the  abbot 
must  direct,  and  the  monk  obey :  in  love  and  humil- 
ity monks  must  go  through  their  days,  perform  their 
acts  of  labor  for  the  good  of  all  and  the  glory  of  God, 
act  toward  each  other  not  in  idle  foolishness  of  in- 
tercourse, but  so  that  all  may  advance  toward  God 
and  eternal  life.  To  these  ends  were  monastic  regu- 
lations, so  that  each  act  of  the  monk's  life  should  be 
an  act  of  obedience  and  humility,  done  in  love  of  God 
and  man.  Even  in  prayers  and  spiritual  devotions, 
the  monk  shall  observe  set  times  and  seasons,  lest  he 
be  proud  or  puffed  up  at  his  progress. 

The  ideal  monastic  character  was  that  which  cor- 
responded to  these  principles.  And  in  hundreds  of 
instances  a  personality  with  such  a  character  did  re- 
sult ;  a  personality  when  directing  faultless  in  humil- 
ity and  obedience  to  Gocl,  faultless  in  humility  and 
obedience  when  obeying;  knowing  neither  pride  nor 
vanity,  nor  covetousness  nor  lust,  nor  slothful  depres- 
sion ;  grave  and  silent  with  bent  head,  yet  with  an 
inner  peace,  even  an  inner  passionate  joy;  meditative, 
mystic,  an  other-world  personality;  one  that  dwells 
in  spiritual  facts,  for  whom  this  world  has  passed 
away  and  the  lusts  thereof ;  one  that  is  centred  in 
God  and  in  eternal  life,  and  yet  capable  of  intense 
activities;  a  man  who  will  not  swerve  from  orders 
received,  as  he  swerves  not  from  his  great  aim,  the 
love  of  God  and  life  eternal.  Such  a  character  was 
narrow  in  that  it  lacked  the  qualities  developed  by 
those  normal   human  activities   which  monastic  life 


▼n]  THE   MONASTIC  CHARACTER  183 

excluded ;  and  it  might  be  set  and  rigid  and  uncrea- 
tive  in  its  obedience.  But  in  its  spiritual  wealth  and 
power  lay  compensation  for  its  misprisal  of  the  life 
that  circles  unto  God  through  loves  which  are  partly 
of  this  earth.  Only  by  suppression  and  exclusion  of 
what  seemed  opposing  and  in  reality  was  too  difficult 
to  fulfil,  could  men  of  the  transition  and  mediaeval 
centuries  formulate  and  carry  out  an  ideal  of  the  per- 
fect Christian  life.  It  was  not  for  them,  as  it  is  not 
for  other  ages,  to  fulfil  all  of  Christ. 

Evidently  the  contrast  between  the  monk  and  the 
antique  pagan  man  is  well-nigh  absolute.  If  we 
should  take  the  foregoing  outline  of  the  monastic 
character  sentence  by  sentence,  and  prefix  a  negative 
to  each,  we  should  find  that  the  antique  man  was 
thereby  not  untruly,  if  but  partially,  described.1 

The  monastic  character  manifested  different  phases 
in  monks  and  nuns  of  diverse  temperaments  living 
under  various  conditions.  A  consummate  expression 
of  it,  toward  the  end  of  the  Middle  Ages,  is  the  De 
Imitatione  Cliristi  of  Thomas  a  Kempis.  But  we  may 
rather  turn  to  certain  great  men  of  the  transition 
centuries.  Their  characters  and  the  range  of  their 
faculties  will  indicate  the  scope  of  manhood  and  hu- 
man quality  existing  among  Latin  Christians,  and 
will  also  illustrate  monastic  prototypes.  Jerome, 
Ambrose,  Augustine,  Benedict,  and  Gregory  the  Great 

1  This  is  true,  although  the  monastic  ideal  had  something  in 
common,  not  only  with  certain  problematic  Jewish  modes  of  life 
{ante,  p.  141) ,  but  also  with  Neo-platonism ,  which  was  mainly  Greek. 
Yet  any  elements  which  Neo-platonism  may  be  deemed  to  have  in 
common  with  monasticism  will  be  found  to  be  those  characteristics 
which  indicate  departure  from  the  antique. 


184  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

were  mighty  factors  in  mediaeval  life  and  thought, 
and  their  lives  bore  close  relation  to  monasticism, 
though  not  all  were  passed  in  monasteries. 

Of  these  five,  Jerome  was  the  least.  He  was  a  gifted 
not  a  great  man.  His  was  a  sensitive,  irascible,  al- 
most hysterical  temperament,  but  with  fine  touches 
of  sympathy  and  understanding.  He  had  an  espe- 
cially sympathetic  understanding  of  women ;  there  was 
much  of  the  woman  in  this  great  director  of  widows 
and  virgins.  He  was  an  admirable  scholar,  a  violent 
controversialist,  and  a  great  letter-writer.1  He  was 
possessed  with  a  fiery  enthusiasm  for  Christianity 
and  celibate  life,  which  perhaps  was  even  over-ex- 
pressed in  his  letters;  for  Jerome  always  felt  dra- 
matically and  imaginatively.  At  all  events,  he  led 
an  ascetic  and  effusively  celibate  life  in  Rome  and 
afterwards  in  his  retreat  at  Bethlehem.  His  enthu- 
siasm for  Christian  scholarship  proved  itself  real  in 
his  mighty  labors  upon  Biblical  translations. 

Jerome's  temper,  appreciations,  and  affections  clam- 
ored ceaselessly  at  the  barriers  of  his  austerely  con- 
ceived life.  This  heart,  shut  against  fleshly  lures,  has 
much  conf essorial  tenderness  for  women ;  and  this 
mind  which  deems  that  a  Ciceronian  is  not  a  Christian, 
continually  hungers  for  the  fair  classic  literature. 
Although  a  Greek  scholar,  it  was  his  own  Latin  that 
made  part  of  him ;  and  his  preferences  appear  in  his 
letters.  These  contain  more  quotations  from  Virgil  than 
from  all  other  pagan  writers  together  ;  less  frequently 
he  quotes  from  Horace,  and  has  scattered  lines  from 
other  classics,  Naevius,  Persius,  Terence,  Lucan. 
i  Post,  p.  211. 


tti]  THE  MONASTIC  CHARACTER  185 

The  saint  suppressed  feelings  connected  with  sense ; 
but  his  nature  quivers.  No  stoic,  he  knows  that  he 
feels  intensely,  and  he  finds  it  well  to  feel.  He  felt 
the  passion  of  devotion,  which  inflames  his  exhorta- 
tions for  virginity.  He  felt  another  love  —  for  saintly 
Paula  and  her  daughter  Eustochium,  a  love  fervent  if 
not  impassioned ;  but  certainly  not  that  of  lover  for 
mistress ;  "  Salute  Paula  and  Eustochium,  mine  in 
Christ,  whether  the  world  will  or  no/'1  he  writes, 
about  to  sail  for  the  Holy  Land,  disgusted  with  Rome 
and  his  disappointed  ambitions  there,  and  the  scandals 
touching  him  and  these  ladies.  They  followed  him 
thither,  and  established  convents  at  Bethlehem,  near 
their  teacher's  dwelling.  The  loving  friendship  of  the 
three  gains  inspiration  from  their  Christian  fervor. 
Christianity  has  increased  their  capacity  for  feeling, 
though  the  passions  of  mortal  love  are  barred. 

A  different  person  from  Jerome  was  the  great 
Bishop  of  Milan,  an  entirely  masculine  and  authorita- 
tive personality.  Jerome  was  gifted ;  Ambrose  was 
great.  In  him  the  power  of  Roman  command  abides ; 
he  is  a  Roman  Christian,  a  jurist,  a  statesman,  a 
consul-bishop.  The  range,  the  greatness,  of  his  per- 
sonality consists  in  the  intelligence  which  understands 
and  directs,  and  in  fortitude  and  power  and  goodness. 
Like  a  Roman  and  a  Stoic,  he  inculcates  Christianity 
and  Christian  conduct,  and  is  unfaltering  in  defence 
of  Christian  principles  against  the  orthodox  Theodo- 
sius,  as  he  is  tireless  in  upholding  Christian  dogmas 
against  Arians. 

1  Ep.  45,  Ad  Asellam;  and  see  his  eulogy  on  Paula,  Ep.  108,  Ad 
Eustochium. 


186  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

Ambrose  is  not  irascible,  nor  does  he  appear  sensi- 
tive or  emotional.  In  harmony  with  his  juristic  and 
dogmatic  mind,  the  sentiments  of  his  heart  flow  evenly 
and  strongly,  not  made  to  eddy  by  quick  quivering 
sympathies,  which,  if  the  Roman  temper  feels,  it 
will  ignore.  Ambrose's  emotion  flows  steadily  toward 
that  goal  which  moves  it,  God — the  Trinity,  Father, 
Son,  and  Holy  Spirit.  His  admonitions  are  stern,  true, 
unangered;  his  appeals  are  not  impassioned  by  his 
feelings  toward  the  person  he  addresses.  Yet  his  hu- 
man feelings  are  not  suppressed;  they  gather  great- 
ness in  the  current  which  they  do  not  disturb,  but 
which  carries  them  onward  toward  God.  Such  is  the 
quality  of  the  feeling  which  rolls  so  calmly  in  his 
hymns,  springing  from  the  power  of  his  thought  of 
God,  and  sobered  by  the  compelling  sobriety  of  that 
thought,  —  reverential,  awe-struck,   correct,   mightily 

loving : 

Dens  creator  omnium, 
Polique  rector,  vestiens 
Diem  decoro  lumine, 
Noctem  soporis  gratia. 

This  is  the  reverence  of  the  Christian  Roman  mind ; 
the  heart  turns  to  God  in  the  Veni,  redemptor  gentium. 
Dogmatically  one  hymn  is  as  correct  as  the  other. 
They  may  seem  unemotional  and  too  correct  in  state- 
ment. But  the  power  of  their  reverent  adoration 
moved  Augustine  to  tears. 

A  supremely  great  man  may  contain  in  his  nature 
what  has  been  attained  in  those  prior  periods  of  human 
development  which  constitute  the  past  for  him.  Such 
a  man  does  not  feel  and  include  the  past  as  it  was,  but 


vn]  THE   MONASTIC  CHARACTER  187 

as  it  still  is  —  transformed  in  the  present.  He  draws 
this  into  himself,  forms  it  anew  and  reexpresses  it  for 
the  inspiration  of  the  future.  Homer  expresses  the 
ideal  of  the  past  heroic  age  as  that  ideal  still  lived  in 
the  life  of  his  own  time.  Virgil  sums  up  in  himself 
and  in  his  work  the  great  Roman  past  as  it  lived  in 
the  power  of  the  Augustan  era.  Dante  is  preeminently 
the  scholastic  poet,  who  apparently  sums  up  an  actual 
past,  which  ends  in  him.  Nevertheless,  Dante  is  of 
his  present ;  and  in  him,  as  in  all  great  men,  there  is 
dawn  as  well  as  twilight. 

Augustine  was  not  a  poet ;  yet  as  the  supreme  man 
of  his  time  he  summed  up  the  past  as  it  still  lived, 
remoulded  it,  added  to  it  from  himself,  and  gave  it  a 
new  unity  and  form  wherein  it  was  to  live  on.  It  was 
a  fact  of  paramount  importance  for  the  Middle  Ages 
that  Augustine  lived  to  purge  and  unify  and  complete 
his  era's  understanding  and  appropriation  of  the  first 
four  Christian  centuries.  He  embodied  in  himself  and 
expressed  in  his  writings  a  large  and  veritable  Chris- 
tianity. He  eliminated  pagan  ethics  and  substituted 
Christian  love  of  God,  with  the  principles  which  it 
involves.  On  the  other  hand,  his  personality  held 
antecedents  which  were  not  specifically  Christian. 
His  intellect  was  greatly  Roman.  The  Roman  law 
was  inborn  in  him ;  its  spirit  appears  in  his  writings, 
occupied  with  God  and  man,  with  sin  and  grace.  He 
prizes  government  and  is  impassioned  for  order.  The 
Roman  order,  the  pax  Romana,  the  concord  of  citizens, 
is  re-set  in  the  kingdom  of  God :  Pax  civitatis,  ordi- 
nate imperandi  atque  obediendi  concordia  civium.  Pax 
coelestis  civitatis,  ordiaatissima  et  concordissima  societas 


188  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

fruendi  Deo  et  invicem  in  Deo.  Pax  omnium  rerum, 
tranquillitas  ordinis.  Ordo  est  par  mm  dispariumque 
rerum  sua  cuique  loca  tribuens  dispositio.1  For  earthly 
peace  and  order  there  must  be  the  concord  of  citizens 
in  commanding  and  obeying ;  and  for  this  life's  true 
ordering  and  pacifying  unto  life  eternal,  there  must 
be  an  authority  on  earth  to  transmit  peace  and  grace 
from  God.  The  Eoman  in  Augustine  completes  the 
labors  of  prior  Eoman-minded  Christians,  and  makes 
the  Church  absolute  in  authority  to  bind  and  loose. 

Augustine  had  also  the  training  of  rhetoric  and  the 
enlightenment  of  the  philosophies,  especially  USTeo- 
platonism.  He  combines  Greek  metaphysical  concep- 
tions and  late  philosophic  moods  with  his  own  intense 
Christian  love  of  God  and  ardent  practice  of  the  other 
Christian  virtues.  Yet  he  remains  a  man  of  the  Latin 
West.  This  appears  in  his  abiding  Eoman  qualities, 
and  in  the  character  of  the  topics  interesting  him ;  for 
example,  the  problem  of  grace  and  free  will,  the  nature 
of  the  soul  and  its  relationship  to  God,  rather  than 
the  metaphysical  dogmas  of  the  Eastern  Church, 
which  he  simply  accepts.  He  had  a  genius  for  psy- 
chology, in  which  branch  of  mental  science  his  pred- 
ecessors were  Latins  rather  than  Greeks.2 

The  greatness  and  completeness  of  Augustine's 
Christian  nature  consisted  in  the  greatness  of  his  love 
of  God  and  the  completeness  which  his  mind  carried 
out  the  convictions  of  this  love  to  their  conclusions. 
In  this,  with  power  unequalled  since  Paul,  he  was 
appropriating  Christ,  feeling   and   thinking   back   to 

i  Civ.  Dei,  XIX,  13,  and  cf.  ib.,  10-12. 
*  E.g.,  Tertullian  and  Arnobius. 


vn]  THE   MONASTIC  CHARACTER  189 

Christ's  teachings  and  the  teachings  of  the  Old  Testa- 
ment. He  veritably  feels  in  the  words  of  psalmist  or 
prophet  or  evangelist,  or  in  the  words  of  Paul.1  Yet  in 
his  Biblical  phrases,  and  much  more  in  his  own  expres- 
sions of  Christian  feeling  and  all  that  Christianity  is  to 
him,  he  is  interpreting  and  reexpressing  Christianity. 
And  inasmuch  as  his  intellectual  and  emotional  appro- 
priation of  Christianity  was  more  comprehensive  than 
that  of  any  man  for  centuries  after  him,  his  understand- 
ing and  expression  of  it  laid  the  lines  and  set  the  tone 
of  mediaeval  theology  and  piety.  It  is  he,  for  example, 
that  strikes  the  mediaeval  keynote  of  Christ's  sub- 
limity in  his  humility,  and  the  note  of  reverence  for 
humility ; 2  omne  bonum  in  humilitate  perficitur,  would 
have  been  a  good  text  for  Benedict's  twelfth  chapter. 
Robxir  in  injirmitate  perjicitur  ;  ilia  aediflcans  caritas  a 
fundamento,  quod  est  Christies  Jesus  : 3  what  keynotes 
these  of  mediaeval  piety.  Augustine  represents  the 
sum  of  emotion  and  the  capacity  for  love  which  had 
been  gathering  in  Christian  souls  and  drawing  toward 
Christ  and  the  love  of  God.  Conceiving  and  feeling 
the  love  of  God  which  was  in  Christ  Jesus,  he  reex- 
pressed  it  in  terms  which  were  to  voice  the  Christian 
feelings  of  the  mediaeval  soul. 

The  great  heart,  the  great  mind ;  the  mind  led  by 
the  heart's  inspiration,  the  heart  guided  by  the  mind  — 
this  is  Augustine.     Both  mind  and  heart  contribute 

1  Augustine's  recurring  note  is  the  mihi  adhaerere  Deo  bonum 
est,  which  is  from  Ps.  lxxiii.  28.  For  how  he  sets  his  principles  and 
feelings  in  words  of  psalmist  and  prophets,  see,  e.g..  Civ.  Dei,  X, 
5,  6,  18,  25,  32. 

2  Cf .  Con/.,  VII,  24-27 ;  Harnack,  Dogmengeschichte,  III,  118-121. 

3  Con/.,  VII,  26. 


190  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

to  the  intensity  and  harmony  of  life  included  in  a 
single  aim  —  God :  mihi  adhaerere  Deo  bonum  est. 
Augustine's  works  are  never  the  product  solely  of  the 
mind  ;  the  whole  man  speaks  in  them,  the  entire  human 
consciousness  recognizing  that  the  truths  of  love  are 
as  valid  as  the  truths  of  reason.  His  thoughts  are 
not  mere  thoughts,  but  expressions  of  the  whole  soul, 
and  therefore  always  involving  desire  and  aversion; 
his  supreme  conception,  God,  is  also  his  supreme  desire. 
The  life  of  the  soul  is  not  mere  knowing  or  contem- 
plation, but  includes  a  striving  according  to  desire  or 
aversion  ;  for  the  soul  has  always  these,  cupido,  amor, 
ira,  or  timor. 

Augustine  is  primarily  sure  of  his  own  thoughts  and 
feelings.  In  accord  with  them  he  constructs  his  con- 
ception of  God,  and  loves  Him :  so  his  theology  rests 
on  his  psychology.  God  and  the  soul  are  the  objects 
of  his  love  and  his  desire  to  know:  Deum  et  animam 
scire  cupio.  Nihilne  plus  ?  Nihil  omnino.1  There- 
fore he  abjures  the  blithe  world  around  him,  and 
creates  a  new  world  of  God  and  the  soul  of  man. 

Augustine's  personality  includes  qualities  which 
singly  were  possessed  by  other  men.  He  may  not 
have  been  the  Eoman  imperator  that  Ambrose  was, 
but  he  had  an  equally  authoritative  character;  the 
flock-guiding  Christian  bishop  speaks  in  his  sermons. 
There  also  exists  in  Augustine  the  juristic  nature  of 
Tertullian.  That  great  African's  flame  of  reason  is 
matched  by  the  fervent  arguments  of  Augustine's 
more  balanced,  but  equally  impassioned  mind.  And 
the  woman-nature  which  was  in  Jerome  exists  more 

i  Soli!.,  I,  7. 


vn]  THE   MONASTIC  CHARACTER  191 

greatly  in  him;  for  his  is  the  woman-nature  turned 
toward  God,  poured  out  at  His  feet,  bathing  them 
with  its  flood ;  the  repentant  woman-nature,  grateful, 
devoted,  surrendered,  and  abased,  utterly  filled  with 
love  of  Him ;  and  the  woman-nature  which  is  not  nar- 
rowed by  love's  devotion,  but  is  broadened  through 
it  to  include  tender  consideration  of  whatever  needs 
love's  sympathy. 

In  matters  of  sheer  intellect  Augustine  rises  creative 
above  his  contemporaries.  He  anticipates  Descartes' 
cogito  ergo  sum,1  and  almost  Kant's  thought  of  the 
subjectivity  of  time.2  He  has  also  a  grand  conception 
of  spiritual  progress,  —  of  the  people  of  God,  advanc- 
ing from  age  to  age.3  And  he  discountenances  the 
worship  of  martyrs,  who  yet  may  be  honored.4  Still, 
he  had  some  of  the  limitations  of  his  time.  His  Pla- 
tonism  was  mainly  Xeo-platonism ;  and  this  means 
much ;  it  led  him  to  speak  of  Porphyry  as  nobilissimus 
philosophies  paganorum.5  He  believed  in  miracles,  and 
gives  a  list  of  many  known  to  him  or  occurring  in  his 
time.6  But  he  argues  excellently,  showing  them  to 
be  less  wonderful  than  creation  and  man  and  the 
world  and  God.7  He  thinks  that  demons  have  bodies 
superior  to  those  of  men.8  He  could  not  have  doubted 
the  existence  of  demons  without  lifting  himself  out  of 
the  fifth  century,  when  their  existence  was  assumed, 

i  Civ.  Dei,  XI,  26. 

2  Civ.  Dei,  XI,  6 ;  Con/.,  XI,  36.  Cf .  Flottes,  fitudes  sur  St.  Au- 
gustin,  pp.  188-197. 

s  Civ.  Dei,  X,  14.  *  Civ.  Dei,  VIII,  27. 

5  Civ.  Dei,  XXII,  3.         6  Civ.  Dei,  XXII,  8.  7  /&.,  x,  12. 

8  Civ.  Dei,  VIII,  15.  He  does  not  doubt  ancient  heathen  prodi- 
gies, which  he  regards  as  the  work  of  devils  (Civ.  Dei,  X,  16  and  21). 


192  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

just  as  we  now  assume  their  non-existence.  Likewise 
he  assumes  the  existence  of  angels,  and  reasons  on 
their  creation,1  and  on  their  knowledge  of  God.2  He 
had  also  the  universal  habit  of  allegorical  interpreta- 
tion,3 with  fancies  for  the  symbolism  of  numbers.4 

Augustine's  final,  most  fatal,  limitation  was  also  of 
his  time,  as  well  as  of  the  centuries  which  followed 
him.  This  was  the  prurient  misconception  of  the 
normal  and  lawful  relations  between  the  sexes.  The 
love  of  man  for  woman  which  holds  passion  could  be 
but  lust  for  Augustine ;  it  could  not  be  holy,  it  held 
the  creature  down.  He  knew  not  the  love  which  draws 
man  and  wife  toward  God.  His  words  speak  only  of 
concupiscence.  As  his  thoughts  are  wavering  toward 
utter  devotion  to  Christ,  it  is  not  the  yearning  for  the 
companionship  of  a  wife  that  distracts  him.  He  is 
hindered  by  the  passions  of  the  flesh ;  it  is  the  habit 
of  these  that  he  cannot  lay  aside,  that  he  longs  for 
most  sinfully,  that  in  the  end  he  will  cut  off  utterly. 
His  thoughts  correspond  to  the  verse  which  met  his 
eyes  as  he  suddenly  opened  the  gospel  in  the  crisis  of 
his  conversion,  —  not  in  rioting  and  drunkenness,  not 
in  chambering  and  wantonness,  not  in  strife  and  envy- 
ing ;  but  put  ye  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  make 
not  provision  for  the  flesh  in  concupiscentiis.6 

i  E.g.,  Civ.  Dei,  XI,  9  and  32.  2  lb.,  XI,  29. 

«  See,  e.g.,  Civ.  Dei,  XI,  8  and  34;  XIII,  21;  Contra  Faustum, 
XXII;  Sermo  XXIV,  on  Gospel  of  John.  In  Sermo  XVII,  Sec.  8, 
etc.,  on  Gospel  of  John,  Augustine  interprets  Christ's  words,  "  Take 
up  thy  bed  and  walk,"  to  mean  "  Love  your  neighbor. " 

4  E.g.,  Civ.  Dei,  XI,  30. 

6  Con/.,  VIII,  29.  See  id.,  VI,  25 ;  VIII,  12, 13, 17.  Compare  Civ. 
Dei,  XIV,  16  et  seq. 


vn]  THE  MONASTIC  CHARACTER  193 

But  how  could  Augustine  have  high  thoughts  of 
love  and  marriage  ?  Could  he  lift  himself  out  of  his 
time,  and  forestall  the  development  of  future  ages? 
He  would  have  been  obliged  to  create  such  conceptions. 
Christ  recognized  the  holiness  of  marriage,  yet  hardly 
in  fifteen  centuries  did  marriage  reach  its  full  sancti- 
fication  in  the  spirit  of  His  teachings.  The  causes 
which  brought  about  monasticism  prevented  the  recog- 
nition of  the  absolute  holiness  of  marriage  within  the 
Christian  communities.  Life  in  those  communities 
was  environed  by  pagan  conceptions  of  love  and  mar- 
riage, in  which  there  was  little  to  present  an  ideal 
according  with  Christianity's  continual  exaction  of  the 
best.  So  marriage  fell  below  the  demands  of  Christian 
idealism ;  it  was  not  raised  to  their  level,  but  was 
definitely  numbered  with  those  things  which  might  be 
tolerated  but  could  not  be  admired.  Absolute  holiness 
lay  only  in  virginity.  This  was  the  monastic  outcome. 
And  strange  were  to  be  the  far  effects.  For,  in  the 
course  of  centuries,  love's  inspiration  was  to  assert  its 
own  nobility,  but  not  always  within  the  bonds  of 
matrimony.  Through  the  Middle  Ages  the  thought 
of  love  as  inspiration  grew  indeed,  but  whether  there 
was  marriage  or  adultery  between  the  lovers  was  not 
the  first  consideration.1 

Benedict  of  Nursia  was  holy  from  his  youth ;  from 
his  childhood  carrying  an  old  man's  heart,  ab  ipso  suae 
pueritiae  tempore  cor  gerens  senile,2  a  phrase  revealing 
monastic  ideals  of  holiness.     The  character  of  Bene- 

1  The  Arthurian  cycle  of  poetry  and  the  Roman  de  la  Rose  bear 
witness  to  this. 

2  Gregorius  Magnus,  Dialogic  II,  prologue. 


194  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

diet  is  reflected  in  his  regula;  as  Gregory  says,  Cujus 
si  quis  relit  subtilius  mores  vitamque  cognoscere,  potest 
in  eadem  institutione  regulae  omnes  magisterii  illius  actus 
invenire  :  quia  sanctus  vir  nullo  modo  potuit  aliter  docere 
quam  vixit.1  The  regula  not  only  reflects  the  character 
of  Benedict  generally,  but  contains  touches  revealing 
distinctly  the  soul  of  him  who  set  it.  Thus  the  refer- 
ence to  the  rule  as  this  minimam  regulam  inchoationis? 
tells  the  utter  humility  of  Benedict  and  the  ideality 
of  his  endeavor  for  a  life  of  holiness.  His  regula  is 
but  a  slight  beginning ;  for  what  more  could  he,  poor 
workman,  set  ?  it  is  also  but  a  beginning,  as  the  saintly 
soul  sees  all  his  acts  small  and  poor  in  the  light  of  the 
perfection  for  which  he  yearns.  Likewise  the  char- 
acterization of  the  proper  abbot  mirrors  Benedict,  his 
lovingness  and  his  sufficient  strictness  when  needed  : 
oderit  vitia,  diligat  fratres  .  .  .  studeat  plus  amari  quam 
timeri? 

Gregory's  words,  quoted  above,  disclose  the  aspects 
of  Benedict  which  impressed  Gregory's  generation,  and 
the  centuries  following :  "  He  who  would  gain  minuter 
knowledge  of  Benedict's  life,  may,  in  the  institution 
of  the  regula,  find  all  the  acts  of  that  master;4  for  the 
holy  man  could  in  no  wise  teach  other  than  as  he 
lived."  These  are  the  two  aspects  of  the  same  Bene- 
dict, the    master,  the  abbot,  the  wise  and  temperate 

1  Gregorius  Magnus,  Dialogi,  II,  36. 

2  Reg.  Benedicti,  Cap.  73,  —  one  of  the  chapters  possibly  not  writ- 
ten by  Benedict,  yet  reflecting  his  spirit. 

3  Reg.,  Cap.  64. 

4  I  have  thus  translated  illius  magisterii.  Magisterium  properly 
means  office,  not  magistrate.  But  here  I  think  the  sense  is  ar- 
rived at  by  translating  ,(  master." 


vii]  THE  MONASTIC  CHARACTER  195 

lawgiver,  and  the  holy  man,  whose  holiness  wrought 
miracles.  Herein  he  was  the  prototype  of  mediaeval 
saints,  whose  characters  combined  a  like  miracle-work- 
ing sanctity  with  the  wisdom,  firmness,  and  force  which 
make  the  possessor  a  director  of  those  about  him  and 
sometimes  of  the  wider  destinies  of  men.  The  holi- 
ness of  Benedict's  life  was  reflected  in  tales  of  mirac- 
ulous deeds,  many  of  which  tales  carry  human  life 
and  holiness  and  poetic  beauty ; 1  and,  as  for  the  other 
aspects  of  his  career,  his  regula  gave  the  fundamental 
form  to  the  monasticism  of  the  West. 

As  Benedict  is  both  saint  and  monastic  lawgiver, 
so  even  more  strikingly  the  writings  of  Gregory  the 
Great  exhibit  two  aspects  of  the  man,  which  make 
him  also  one  of  the  great  prototypes  of  the  mediaeval 
monk-rulers  of  the  Church.  A  strange  but  frequent 
combination  of  traits  and  faculties :  the  same  man  is 
well  nigh  a  mystic,  one  to  whom  spiritual  communion 
with  God  is  blessedness,  one  to  whom  the  career  which 
disturbs  the  peace  of  this  communion  comes  as  a 
banishment ;  on  the  other  hand,  a  man  of  marvellous 
practical  sagacity  and  capacity  for  the  management  of 
affairs  and  the  direction  of  men,  a  man  of  dauntless 
will  and  untiring  energy,  a  man  of  power  and  author- 
ity, strong  in  exhortation,  terrible  in  reproof,2  whose 
commands  are  not  to  be  withstood,  and  whose  love 
is  commensurate  in  fervor.  Gregory  is  moreover  a 
prototype  of  the  mediaeval  union  of  humility  and 
authority.  He  outlines  such  a  character  in  his  Book 
of  Pastoral  Rule  :    the  bishop  shall  be  humble,  but 

1  See,  e.g.,  Gregorius,  Dlalogi,  II,  6  and  7. 

2  See,  e.g.,  Ep.  V,  15,  Ad  Johannem  Episcopum. 


196  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

authoritative  in  suppressing  sins ;  he  must  lord  it, 
not  over  the  brethren,  but  over  their  vices.1 

Gregory's  Pastoral  Rule  is  an  authoritative  work 
of  episcopal  —  inchoate  papal  —  precept.  Its  purpose 
was  to  supply  the  bishop  with  rules  for  his  conduct, 
just  as  Benedict's  regula  monachorum  sets  the  rules  for 
monks.  Both  writings  are  regulae  authoritatively  pre- 
scribed. They  are  thus  typical  of  the  later  transition 
centuries  and  the  Middle  Ages;  the  former  yearned 
for  such  regulae  as  these  to  obey,  and  created  them ; 
the  latter  accepted  the  same,  modifying  them  according 
to  the  further  development  and  needs  of  mankind. 

As  pope  and  head  of  Western  Christendom,  Gregory 
assumed  a  title  expressive  of  his  humility,  and  pro- 
phetic of  the  nature  of  the  papacy's  future  dominion : 
servus  servorum  Dei.2  It  was  as  a  servant  of  servants 
that  the  pope  was  to  command  the  world,  in  obedience 
to  God  and  in  exaction  of  obedience  to  authority  given 
and  enjoined  by  God. 

Gregory  is  a  man  of  the  late  transition  centuries,  a 
man  far  more  mediaeval  than  Augustine.  Augustine 
had  summed  up  Christian  doctrine  and  feeling  for  the 
West;  Gregory  accepts  the  work  of  Augustine,  but 
reexpresses  Augustinian  feelings  and  conclusions  in 
conformity  to  his  own  character,  which  is  more  defi- 
nitely touched  by  the  spirit  and  the  new  ignorance  of 
the  Middle  Ages.  His  mind  is  occupied  with  topics 
which  were  to  occupy  coming  centuries ;  he  is  filled 
with  allegorism ;  he  discusses  the  affairs  and  details 

1  See,  e.g.,  Pastoralis  Regulae  Liber,  II,  7;  also  cf.  ib.,  I,  10 
and  11. 

2  Thus  he  begins  Ep.  1, 1. 


vnj  THE  MONASTIC  CHARACTER  197 

of  the  life  to  come ;  and  the  doctrine  of  a  purgatorial 
fire,  which  purges  lesser  sins  after  the  sinner's  death 
but  before  the  Last  Judgment,  has  come  to  him.1  His 
great  practical  insight  and  ability  does  not  prevent  his 
ready  credence  of  miracles  preposterous  or  otherwise; 
they  occupy  the  greater  part  of  his  Dialogi  de  Vita  et 
miraculis  Patrum  Italicorum.  He  has,  likewise,  a  full 
mediaeval  reverential  fear  of  relics,  which  can  work 
miracles  or  death.2  And  he  is  mediaeval  in  that  he  is 
a  sombre  character,  upon  whom  weighs  the  respon- 
sibility of  his  pontificate,  and  over  whom  already 
impends  the  mediaeval  Dies  Irae.  He  bids  his  corre- 
spondents be  mindful  of  that  Day :  In  interitu  ergo  re- 
rum  omnium  pensare  deb  emus  nil  fuisse  quod  amavimus. 
Appropinquantem  itaque  aeterni  judicis  diem  sollicita 
mente  conspicite,  et  terrorem  ipsius  poenitendo  praevenite. 
Delictorum  omnium  maculas  fietibus  lavate.  Iram  quae 
aeterna  imminet  temporali  lamento  compescite.3  These 
are  dark  words ;  the  joyful  world  is  no  more.  Contem- 
plation of  God  is  blessedness  in  the  present  life,  which 
otherwise  is  danger  and  distress ;  in  such  contempla- 
tion there  is  fear  of  Hell  and  love  of  God,  a  love  which 
also  does  not  cease  to  shed  tears  of  penitence. 

1  Dialogi,  IV,  39 ;  see  this  fourth  book  of  the  Dialogi,  passim. 

2  See  Lib.  IV,  Ep.  30,  Ad  Constantiam  Augustam ;  also  VII,  Ep. 
26  ;  VIII,  Ep.  35. 

8  "  In  the  face  of  the  destruction  of  all  things,  we  ought  to  hold 
what  we  have  loved  as  nothing.  Gaze  upon  the  Day  of  the  Eternal 
Judge  with  a  solicitous  mind,  and  forestall  its  terror  by  repentance. 
Wash  out  with  tears  the  stains  of  every  sin.  With  present  lament 
quiet  the  wrath  hanging  over  us  from  eternity"  (Lib.  Ill,  Ep.  29, 
to  the  clergy  of  Milan). 


CHAPTER   VIII 

CHRISTIAN    PROSE 

I.    Christianization  of  Style 

Christian  literature  from  the  second  to  the  fifth 
century  does  not  follow  the  lines  of  literary  degener- 
acy which  mark  the  course  of  pagan  literature  during 
the  same  period.  For  Christians  had  new  matter,  and 
new  power  to  set  it  forth.  There  had  come  to  them 
the  gospel,  which  they  had  received  according  to  their 
capacities  and  characters.  This  was  new  matter 
which  Christian  writers  were  to  set  forth  as  they  un- 
derstood it.  With  the  gospel,  new  elements  of  life 
had  entered  the  natures  of  these  men,  renewing  their 
powers,  enlarging  their  personalities,  giving  them  new 
points  of  view.  A  new  message,  a  new  faith,  a  new 
love,  impelled  them  to  exhort  and  instruct  each  other. 
Sometimes  persecuted,  usually  despised  and  hated, 
they  had  constant  need  to  justify  before  the  world 
their  faith  and  way  of  life. 

Thus,  novel  circumstances,  a  new  message  of  ex- 
haustless  import,  a  new  manhood  in  those  to  whom 
the  message  had  come,  combined  to  create  a  new  lit- 
erature. Its  fulness  and  pertinency  of  contents  con- 
trast strikingly  with  the  emptiness  and  irrelevancy  of 
contemporary  pagan  writings.     From  the  second  cen- 

198 


chap,  viii]  CHRISTIANIZED  STYLE  199 

tury,  moreover,  a  steadily  increasing  proportion  of  the 
intellect  of  the  Empire  is  to  be  found  among  the  Chris- 
tians, until  at  the  end  of  the  fourth  century  there  are 
Greek  and  Latin  Christians  who  are  great  writers, 
while  there  is  no  pagan  to  compare  with  them.  In 
this  century  the  Christian  triumph  checked  the  decline 
of  art ;  and  the  same  period  produced  a  body  of  writ- 
ings of  great  power,  constituting  a  revival  of  literature 
in  a  time  of  literary  emptiness.  In  both  cases  the 
inspiration  was  the  Christian  faith  and  the  Christian 
situation. 

The  first  Christian  writings l  constituted  a  group 
unlike  anything  in  classical  Greek  and  Latin  litera- 
ture. Their  theme  was  the  Christian  faith  and  the 
spiritual  and  temporal  needs  of  Christians ;  they  pre- 
sented a  view  and  way  of  life  contrasting  with  all 
that  was  Greek  and  Koman.  Another  fundamental 
contrast  was  presented  by  their  emotional  contents. 
Through  the  classical  periods  of  Greek  and  Eoman 
literature  a  deepening  of  emotional  capacity  may  be 
traced  and  a  quickening  of  sympathy,  which  culminate 
in  Virgil's  great  human  heart  with  its  pity  for  all 
mortal  life.  This  was  a  growth  of  feeling  touching 
fellow-men.  Pagan  literature  has  nothing  like  the 
fear  and  love  of  God,  and  the  accompanying  sense  of 
sinfulness,  felt  and  uttered  by  the  prophets  and  psalm- 
ists of  the  Old  Testament.  In  the  New  Testament 
these  feelings  are  Christianized ;  they  are  perfected  in 

1  The  New  Testament,  the  Epistle  of  Barnabas,  the  Shepherd  of 
Hermas,  the  Didache  of  the  Tvjelve  Apostles ;  then  the  writings  of 
the  Apostolic  Fathers,  Ignatius,  Polycarp,  Clement  of  Rome.  The 
language  is  Greek. 


200  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

that  love  which  caste th  out  fear,  and  are  given  new 
power  through  the  heart's  devotion  to  Christ.  "  For 
the  love  of  Christ  constraineth  us ;  .  .  .  and  he  died 
for  all,  that  they  which  live  should  no  longer  live  unto 
themselves,  but  unto  him  who  for  their  sakes  died  and 
rose  again." l  The  love  which  in  and  through  Christ 
we  bear  to  God  is  poured  out  on  earth  in  love  of  man, 
as  Christ  exemplified  and  commanded.  This  is  the 
love  to  which  Paul  gives  lyric  utterance.2  The  New 
Testament  voices  in  great  notes  the  emotions  of  the 
Christian  soul,  which  were  to  reecho  in  Christian  writ- 
ings from  Augustine  through  the  Middle  Ages. 

Finally,  the  New  Testament  writers  were  by  nature 
more  Hebraic  than  Hellenic ;  their  Hellenic  education 
was  meagre.  Absorbed  in  the  contents  of  their  writ- 
ings, they  had  no  care  for  style  or  vanity  of  authorship. 
As  a  result,  the  writings  are  void  of  self-consciousness, 
and,  from  a  classical  standpoint,  are  formless.  Here 
again  they  offer  a  total  contrast  to  Greek  and  Roman 
literature,  which  had  striven  always  for  excellence  of 
form.  But  the  first  three  gospels  betray  no  thought 
save  for  the  subject-matter;  the  Fourth  Gospel  feels 
the  infinite  import  of  its  contents,  yet  is  not  stylisti- 
cally self-conscious.  In  the  epistles,  Paul  writes  as 
he  would  speak,  without  artifice  or  rhetoric.  He  often 
thinks  of  himself,  but  never  of  his  style.  He  has  not 
the  faintest  literary  self-consciousness.  Unless  a  man 
in  writing  Greek  observed  the  rules  of  rhetoric,  his 
writing,  viewed  from  the  standpoint  of  classical  tradi- 
tion, would  be  formless  and  barbarous.  This  applies 
to  the  first  Christian  writings.  The  Gospels,  the 
1  2  Cor.  v.  14.  3  1  Cor.  xiii. 


vni]  CHRISTIANIZED  STYLE  201 

Epistles,  the  Apocalypse,  are  as  un-Hellenic  as  any- 
thing could  be  and  be  written  in  Greek.1 

Formlessness  and  absence  of  the  rhetorician's  art  do 
not  characterize  Christian  literature  so  markedly  after 
the  middle  of  the  second  century.  Educated  men 
were  joining  the  circles  of  believers;  and  education 
meant  primarily  the  study  of  rhetoric.  These  men 
did  not  lay  aside  their  education.  Moreover,  the 
necessity  of  writing  in  a  style  that  would  appeal  to  the 
educated  pagan  world  was  tacitly  recognized  in  prac- 
tice, however  vehemently  Christians  disavowed  the 
tricks  of  rhetoric.2  From  the  fourth  century  onward, 
the  Church  writers  frequently  insist  that  all  matters 
pertaining  to  the  faith  and  to  the  edification  of  the 
faithful  should  be  set  forth  in  simple  style  without 
rhetoric  or  grammatical  fastidiousness.  It  was  never- 
theless asserted  that,  as  against  heretics  and  other 
falsifiers  of  truth,  the  champion  of  the  faith  should  not 
be  unskilled  in  the  use  of  his  weapons,  but  avail  him- 
self of  all  resources  at  his  command.3 


1  Cf.  generally,  Norden,  Antike  Kunstprosa,  pp.  479-512. 

2  The  manner  and  form  of  the  rhetorician's  productions  were  part 
of  the  time.  Christians  might,  without  conscious  imitation,  cast 
their  thoughts  in  like  forms.  For  example,  there  has  been  found 
a  likeness  (Hatch,  op.  cit.}  p.  90)  between  the  Life  of  Apollonius  and 
the  Clementine  Recognitions,  a  production  probably  of  the  third 
century,  in  which  the  pseudo-Roman  Clement  tells  of  his  accom- 
panying the  Apostle  Peter  on  his  journeyings,  and  of  Peter's  teach- 
ings, and  especially  of  the  mighty  contests,  waged  in  public, 
between  Peter  and  the  arch-deceiver  Simon  Magus,  whom  the 
Apostle  pursues  from  city  to  city. 

8  See  Augustine,  Be  doctrina  Christiana,  IV,  2,  3.  This  passage, 
and  others  insisting  upon  a  simple  open  style  (e.g.,  Basil,  Ep.  339; 
Migne,  Patr.  Gr.t  32,  col.  1084;  Jerome,  Ep.  21,  42,  Ad  Damasum ; 


202  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

A  language,  when  required  to  express  the  thought 
and  feeling  of  a  new  religion,  will  suffer  change.  In 
the  works  of  Christian  prose  writers  from  the  close 
of  the  second  century  onward,  the  written  Latin  lan- 
guage passed  through  changes  from  which  it  emerged 
Christianized.1  Many  popular  words  were  admitted 
to  literary  use,  and  new  words  were  formed  after  the 
analogy  of  the  usages  of  popular  speech;  again,  new 
words  were  formed  or  old  ones  altered  in  their  mean- 
ing in  order  to  translate  Greek  (Christian)  words,  and 
phrases  were  constructed  in  imitation  of  Greek  idioms ; 
Semitic  words  and  idioms  were  introduced ;  and  finally, 
the  balanced  periods  of  classical  composition  were  re- 
placed by  a  style  and  order  of  words  suggesting  the 
formative  stages  of  the  Romance  tongues. 

A  permanent  separation  from  the  classical  Latin 
language  was  thus  brought  about,  and  a  Christian 
diction  was  evolved  which  could  express  Christian 
thoughts  and  give  voice  to  Christian  feeling,  —  the 
passion  of  Augustine's  Confessions  could  not  have  been 
put  into  the  balanced  periods  of  Cicero.  A  new  diction 
and  a  new  style  had  risen,  Augustine  himself  being 
a  potent  influence.  Still  further  declassicizing,  bar- 
barizing, Christianizing  of  Latin  will  be  needed  before 
Latin  will  voice  the  feeling  of  the  De  Imitatione,  or  of 
the  well-nigh  singing  lyric  passages  in  the  early  Latin 
lives  of  St.  Francis.2 

ib.,  Ep.  49,  4;  Augustine,  on  Psalm  xxxvi,  v.  26;  Sulpicius  Severus, 
Vita  Martini,  praef.;  Gregory  the  Great,  preface  to  Moralia),  are 
collected  in  Norden,  Antike  Kunstprosa,  pp.  529-535. 

1  Cf.  Ozanam,  La  civilisation  an  Ve  siecle,  II,  pp.  134-167. 

2  Cf .  T.  Celano,  Vita  Prima,  Cap.  X,  ed.  Amoni  (Rome,  1880)  ; 
Legencla    Trium  Sociorum,  ed.   Amoni    (Rome,   1880) ;    Legenda 


viti]  CHRISTIANIZED  STYLE  203 

The  changes  in  Latin  style  and  diction  between 
Cicero  and  Augustine  were  not  entirely  due  to  Chris- 
tian writers.  Apuleius  and  Petronius  had  broken 
with  the  classical  tradition,  as  preserved  by  Quin- 
tilian.  So  had  at  least  one  pagan  poem,  the  Pervi- 
gilium Veneris.  The  language  wras  loosening  from 
its  classic  balance  and  stately  self-control;  it  was 
becoming  flexible  in  a  way  pointing  to  the  later 
Christian  changes.  These  innovations  within  the 
field  of  pagan  literature  were  due  to  the  writers 
who  had  something  living  to  express.  It  is  the 
well-bred  emptiness  of  a  Symmachus  that  at  the 
very  end  is  found  preserving  the  old  form.1 

In  the  conflict  between  the  classical  style  and  the 
innovations,  not  all  Christian  writers  were  on  the 
same  side.  The  division  is  marked  in  the  two  earli- 
est Latin  Christian  authors :  Minucius  Felix  skil- 
fully maintains  classical  form ;  Tertullian  forcefully 
develops  a  Christian  style.  The  former  introduces 
no  novel  idiom ;  the  latter  was  the  first  creator  of  a 
Christian  Latin  diction.  He  translated  Greek  words 
into  new-cpined  Latin  words,  and  made  over  Greek 
phrases  into  strange  Latin  equivalents.2  Even  more 
largely  and  more  fruitfully  he  drew  from  the  spoken 
Latin  of  the  people,  the  Sermo  Plebeius.  The  lan- 
guage of  literature,  fashioned  under  Greek  influ- 
ence, was  artificial,  and  had  but  cramped  powers  of 

Antiquissima  Speculum  Perfectionis,  V,  81,  and  VIII,  95,  96,  ed. 
Sabatier  (1898). 

1  On  Symmachus,  see  Teuffel-Schwabe,  Gesch.  des  Rom.  Lit.,, 
§425. 

2  Cf.  Norden,  Antike  Kunstprosa,  593-598,  606-615. 


204 


THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE 


[chap. 


growth.  By  its  side  had  always  existed  the  spoken 
Latin,  different  in  many  forms  and  words.  The  lat- 
ter represented  the  vernacular,  un-Hellenized  genius 
of  the  Latin  tongue;  it  was  living,  adaptable,  capa- 
ble of  growth.1  In  Tertullian's  writings,  apparently 
for  the  first  time,  appear  a  mass  of  words  either 
drawn  from  this  spoken  language  or  formed  after  its 
analogies.2 

1  Cf .  P.  Monceaux,  "  Le  Latin  Vulgaire,"  Revue  des  deux  mondes, 
July  15, 1891. 

2  The  following  words  (taken  mostly  from  F.  T.  Cooper,  Word 
Formation  in  the  Roman  Sermo  Plebeius,  1895)  are  examples  of  the 
words  thus  introduced  by  Tertullian  and  other  Christian  writers :  — 

Tertullian 


ablatio 

abominatio 

adimpletio 

benefactio 

blasphematio 

compassio 

concarnatio 

concatenatio 

contribulatio 

contristatio 

detectio 

dilectio 

discretio 

eradicatio 

exaltatio 

fornicatio 

humiliatio 

jejunatio 

(or  ievinatio) 
illuminatio 
incorruptio 
mortificatio 


novatio 

(law  Latin) 
praemonitio 
prostitutio 
reprobatio 
resurrectio 
retributio 
revelatio 
sanctificatio 
tribulatio 
vivicatio 
vivifico 
episcopatus 
expiatus 
creatura 
concupiscentia 
delinquentia 
improvidentia 
praescientia 
corruptibilitas 
incorruptibilitas 
invisibilitas 


visibilitas 
(same  in  ad- 
jectives    in 
-bilis) 

impassibilis 

irreligiositas 

corporalitas 

nuditas 

profanitas 

sensualitas 

spiritalitas 

temporalitas 

trinitas 

animator 

annuntiator 

confessor 

damnator 

dubitor 

expiator 

illuminator 

miserator 

negator 


nunciator 

oblator 

operator 

peccator 

persecutor 

protector 

recreator 

salvator 

sanctificator 

transgressor 

vivificator 

justificare 

acceptabilis 

virginari 

angelificare 

castificare 

glorificare 

mortificare 

nullificare 

revivificare 

sanctificare 

jejunare 


vm] 


CHRISTIANIZED  STYLE 


205 


Classified  according  to  their  nature  and  significance, 
the  words  entering  the  written  Latin  with  Christianity 
were:  words  relating  to  Christian  worship  {e.g.  bap- 
tizare,  from  the  Greek) ;  those  relating  to  the  customs 
or  government  of  the  churches  (episcopatus,  from  the 
Greek;  excommunicatio)  ;  abstract  nouns,  in  which  the 
classical  Latin  was  poor  (ingratitude*,  classical  Latin 
would  be  ingrata  mens)  ;  words  signifying  qualities, 
feelings,  or  opinions,  which  originated,  or  at  least 
reached  definite  consciousness  or  a  new  importance 
through  Christianity  and  the  sentiments  which  it 
inspired,  —  for   example,  carnalis,1   sensualitas,  repre- 


Apparently  first  used  by  the  f oUowing  are :  — 


Arnobius 
abnegatio 
passibilitas 
possibilitas 

HlERONYMUS 

excommunicatio 
impeccantia 
impoenitentia 
vilificare 


Lactantius 

mirabilitas 
levitudo 

Ambrosius 
dissuetudo 
meditator 

COMMODIANUS 

hymnificare  ( ?) 


Augustine 
convictio  resplendentia 

(from  convinco)  somnolentia 
delapsio  monstrositas 

excommunicatio    beatifico,  -cator 
imperfectio  exstirpator 

mansuef  actio         justificator 
perfruitio  luminator 

ploratio  deificare 


A  number  of  -words  from  the  Greek ;  e.g. :  — 

Tertullian  Itala 


prophetare 
zelare 

Christianizare 
eleemosyna 

Augustine 
anathemare 


agonizare 

anathematizare 

baptizare 

catechizare 

judaizare 

prophetizare 

sabbatizare 


1  Used  by  Tertullian,  Minucius  Felix,  and  Acta  SS.  Perpetual 
et  Felicitatis. 


206  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

sented  ideas  novel  to  the  pagan  world,  i.e.  they  rep- 
resented disapprovals  which  were  new ;  likewise 
peccator  —  paganism  had  not  the  Hebraic  and  Chris- 
tian conception  of  sin;  compassio  (Greek  av^TraOeui) 
was  a  quality  incarnate  with  Christ  —  quite  differ- 
ent from  Virgil's  saddened  pity  for  all  life;  dilectio 
was  a  sort  of  love  different  from  amor;  creatura  stood 
for  a  Christian  (and  Hebraic)  conception  not  existing 
in  the  pagan  world,  whose  gods  were  not  creators ; 
resurrectio,  revelatio,  sanctificatio,  were  thoughts  first 
definite  with  Christianity ;  spiritalitas  —  there  had 
been  nothing  in  the  pagan  world  corresponding  to 
this  quality  of  the  Christian  soul ;  salvator  —  nor  had 
there  been  a  Saviour  before  Christ;  with  reference 
to  Him,  the  conception  of  temporal  preservation 
changed  to  that  of  eternal  salvation  and  was  spirit- 
ualized ;  a  Christian  word  was  needed  to  express  this. 
A  mass  of  words  came  into  Latin  with  the  growth 
of  monasticism.  Some  of  these  were  taken  from  the 
Greek,1  and  some  were  newly  coined  Latin  equiva- 
lents. A  number  of  them  had  originally  passed  over 
into  the  Christian  Greek  vocabulary  from  Stoicism 
and  Neo-platonism. 

Classical  writers  were  on  the  verge  of  using  many 
of  these  words,  and  used  words  from  the  same  roots. 
But  in  Christianity  the  novel  forms,  as  well  as  many 
words  previously  in  classical  use,  gained  new  and 
spiritual  significance.  The  whole  matter  represents 
a  Christianizing  and  spiritualizing  of  the  Latin  lan- 
guage, and  may  be  compared  with  the  Christian 
transformation  of  the  Teutonic  tongues. 

1  See,  e.g.,  Cassian's  list  of  monastic  vices,  ante,  p.  162. 


vm]  CHRISTIAN  PROSE  207 


II.    The  First  Four  Centuries  of  Christian  Prose 

A  brief  reference  may  be  made  to  the  different 
classes  of  prose  Christian  literature  —  Greek  and 
Latin  —  which  had  come  into  existence  by  the  fifth 
century,  in  order  to  observe  what  continuance  of  classic 
form  and  style  there  is  with  the  authors,  what  aban- 
donment of  classic  form,  and  what  development  of 
Christian  style  and  diction,  and  capacity  of  voicing 
Christian  thought  and  feeling. 

Christianity  quickly  took  root  in  many  cities,  and 
the  widely  separated  churches  felt  themselves  mem- 
bers one  of  another.  Epistles  began  to  circulate  at 
once.  The  earliest  Christian  documents  are  the  epis- 
tles of  Paul,  the  formlessness  of  which  from  a  Hel- 
lenic point  of  view  has  been  noticed.  Their  author  has 
little  thought  of  rhetoric  in  his  eager  rush  of  argu- 
ment and  loving  exhortation.1  Their  style,  reflecting 
the  author's  intense  personality,  is  individual  in  the 
highest  degree,  but  with  Hebraic  rather  than  Hellenic 
affinities.  The  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews  and  the  Epistle 
of  Barnabas  are  more  Hellenic.  Also  quite  simply 
Hellenic  is  the  epistle  written  by  Clement  of  Kome 
as  the  spokesman  of  the  Eoman  Church  (cir.  92  a.d.), 
and  addressed  to  the  church  at  Corinth.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  epistles  of  Ignatius  of  Antioch  are  as  indi- 

1  Paul's  own  judgment  is  expressed  in  2  Cor.  xi.  6,  iSiwtt??  tw  k6y<?, 
aAA'  ov  tt)  yvu)<T€L.  Cf.  1  Cor.  ii.  1  et.  seq.  Yet  he  may  have  had 
some  training  in  Greek  rhetoric;  antithesis  seems  natural  to  him, 
e.g.,  Rom.  ii.  6,  etc. ;  1  Cor.  i.  18;  1  Cor.  iv.  10,  etc. ;  2  Cor.  vi.  9. 
See  Norden,  Die  antike  Kunstprosa,  pp.  492-510,  and  compare  the 
different  view  of  E.  L.  Hicks,  St.  Paul  and  Hellenism. 


208  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

vidual  in  style  as  the  epistles  of  Paul,  whom  one 
almost  feels  in  reading  them.  Like  Paul,  Ignatius 
makes  occasional  use  of  antithesis,1  which  by  itself 
indicates  little ;  for,  although  antithesis  was  carefully 
developed  in  Greek  rhetoric,  it  is  also  a  natural  form 
of  fiery  utterance.  Ignatius  is  no  more  a  rhetorician 
than  Paul,  nor  under  the  influence  of  Greek  literary 
style.  Like  the  apostle,  the  apostolic  Father  makes 
his  own  Greek,  mangling  his  periods  as  the  spirit 
moves  him. 

Thus,  from  a  literary  point  of  view,  there  is  little 
that  is  Hellenic  in  these  Greek  Christian  epistles  of 
the  apostolic  and  post-apostolic  time.  Ordinarily  the 
language  adopted  by  a  writer  modifies  the  expression 
of  his  thought.  But  in  these  epistles  the  Greek  lan- 
guage does  not  affect  the  thought  as  much  as  the 
thought  and  feeling  distort  the  Greek  diction.  The 
language  has  been  compelled  to  express  thought  and 
feeling  alien  to  its  genius.  Such  violent  Christianiz- 
ing of  the  Greek  tongue  might  not  endure  among 
Christians  of  Hellenic  birth  or  education.  These  early 
Greek  epistles  had  no  more  literary  influence  than 
the  Greek  gospels  upon  the  subsequent  development 
of  Greek  Christian  literature.2 

When  Kome  became  the  mistress  of  the  East  and 
West,  many  Roman  acquaintances  found  themselves 

1  E.g.,  in  the  passages:  "  Three  mysteries  to  he  cried  aloud 
which  were  wrought  in  the  silence  of  God."  —  Ign.,  Eph.  xix.  "I 
am  God's  wheat,  and  I  am  ground  hy  the  teeth  of  wild  beasts  that 
I  may  be  found  pure  bread."  —  Ign.,  Rom.  iv. 

2  Cf.  Overbeck,  "  Ueber  die  Anfange  der  patristischen  Literatur," 
ffistorische  Zeitschrift,  Neue  Folge,  XII  (1882).  This  is  also  true 
of  the  Shepherd  of  Hennas. 


viii]  CHRISTIAN  PROSE  209 

scattered  through  the  subject  provinces.  As  facilities 
of  transmission  abounded,  they  naturally  wrote  to 
each  other.  Letter-writing  became  more  common  than 
it  ever  had  been  with  the  Greeks.  The  fact  that  the 
Greek  race  was  spread  through  the  East  caused  no 
such  separation  of  friends  as  resulted  from  the  con- 
stant exodus  of  Roman  officials  or  exiles  to  the  prov- 
inces. A  great  part  of  Cicero's  Correspondence  was 
occasioned  by  the  situation  thus  created,  and  the 
example  of  that  greatest  of  letter-writers  made  letters 
an  important  part  of  Latin  literature.1  The  Romans 
were  better  letter- writers  than  the  Greeks ;  and  from 
the  time  when  Latin  Christendom,  turning  from  the 
language  which  had  brought  Christianity  to  Rome, 
speaks  its  own  tongue,  the  most  interesting  letters 
are  Latin  and  not  Greek. 

The  earliest  collection  of  Latin  letters  is  the  corre- 
spondence of  Cyprian,2  the  cultured  and  authoritative 
bishop  of  Carthage,  who  was  martyred  in  the  persecu- 
tion of  Valerian  (257-258).  The  might  and  order  of  the 
organized  Church  speak  in  them,  and  the  writer's  zeal. 
They  show  a  masterful  grasp  of  the  situation.  Their 
style  betrays  the  saint's  former  profession  of  a  rhetori- 
cian.3 It  has  little  affinity  with  that  of  Tertullian, 
whom  he  calls  his  master  and  from  whom  he  draws 

1  The  poetic  epistle,  though  it  may  have  had  its  obscure  Greek 
forerunner,  was  a  Latin  creation ;  it  became  a  favorite  with  the 
poets  of  Latin  Christendom. 

2  Not  all  these  are  by  Cyprian ;  some  are  written  to  him. 

8  Many  a  Christian  saint  of  the  third  and  fourth  centuries  had 
been  a  professor  of  rhetoric,  though  we  do  not  read  of  their  having 
been  professors  of  other  matters,  —  a  fact  showing  the  primacy  of 
rhetoric  in  the  schools. 
p 


210  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

much  of  his  substance.  Nor  does  Cyprian  approve  of 
the  style  of  the  Old  Latin  Bible.  He  is  a  purist  in 
diction,  avoiding  so  far  as  possible  Latinized  Greek 
words  and  words  not  sanctioned  by  classic  use.  His 
Latin  is  smooth  and  round,  containing  much  rhythm, 
rhyme,  and  alliteration,  and  tending  toward  a  har- 
monious parallelism  of  structure  between  the  clauses 
of  the  same  sentences.  Although  Cyprian  never  fails 
to  use  the  skill  which  his  profession  brought  him,  his 
letters  have  the  fire  of  the  real  situation,  as  when 
from  banishment  he  writes  to  the  brothers  in  the 
mines,  exhorting  and  congratulating  them :  "  They 
have  put  fetters  on  your  feet  and  bound  those  blessed 
limbs  and  temples  of  God  with  vile  chains,  as  if  the 
spirit  could  be  bound  with  the  body  !  To  men  devoted 
to  God,  and  testifying  to  their  faith,  such  fetters  are 
ornaments ;  nor  are  Christian  feet  bound  unto  infamy, 
but  glorified  unto  a  crown.  0  blessedly  bound  feet, 
which  God  shall  release !  0  blessedly  bound  feet, 
which  are  guided  in  the  way  of  salvation  to  Paradise ! 
0  feet,  bound  in  the  present  time  that  shall  be  always 
free  before  the  Lord !  0  feet,  delaying  in  fetters  for 
a  little,  but  soon  to  run  the  glorious  course  to  Christ ! 
.  .  .  Not  with  pillows  and  couches  is  the  body  cher- 
ished in  the  mines,  but  with  the  comforts  of  Christ. 
Wearied  it  lies  on  the  ground ;  but  it  is  not  pain  to 
lie  down  with  Christ." * 

From  the  third  century  the  volume  of  Christian 
correspondence  increases;  and  letters  form  a  goodly 
part  of  the  writings  of  the  Greek  and  Latin  Church 

1  Ep.  76.  Cf .  Ep.  15,  24,  25.  Cyprian's  letters  contain  vivid 
pictures  of  the  times,  e.g.,  Ep.  1. 


viii]  CHRISTIAN   PROSE  211 

Fathers.  They  do  not  fall  within  any  one  literary 
category,  but  reflect  the  activities  of  the  leaders  of 
the  Christian  world.  They  include  polemic  writings 
and  doctrinal  treatises,  and  all  manner  of  epistles 
called  forth  by  the  situation  of  the  Church  at  large, 
or  of  some  particular  community,  or  of  the  writer  or 
recipient.  They  compare  with  the  letters  of  pagans 
of  the  same  period  as  Christian  literature  in  general 
compares  with  the  last  centuries  of  pagan  literature  ; 
the  one  has  novel  substance,  the  substance  of  the 
other  is  exhausted.  Christian  letters  discuss  matters 
vitally  affecting  Christian  communities,  or  disclose  the 
actual  situation  of  affairs ;  pagan  letters  are  apt  to  be 
empty  and  formal,  like  the  letters  of  Symmachus,  for 
example,  telling  little  about  anything. 

The  careers  and  characters  of  the  Latin  Fathers  of 
the  fourth  and  fifth  centuries  are  disclosed  in  their 
correspondence.  For  example,  the  scope  of  Augustine's 
activities  appears  as,  in  his  letters  from  Hippo,  he 
writes  polemics,  answers  questions,  informs,  instructs, 
and  admonishes.  Some  two  hundred  and  fifty  of 
them  still  exist,  covering  the  years  from  387  to  429. 
They  are  of  several  classes,  official  letters,  sometimes 
written  in  the  name  of  a  synod,  letters  upon  topics  of 
Christian  exegesis  and  theology,  letters  of  pastoral 
exhortation,  personal  letters  of  an  intimate  and  confi- 
dential character,  which  are  least  numerous  of  all. 

But  the  best  Christian  letter-writer  was  Jerome, 
whose  letters  from  Palestine  were  a  power  making 
for  monasticism,  and  a  power  in  all  matters  of  Chris- 
tian learning.  His  letters,  like  Cicero's,  are  real 
letters,   reflecting   his   personality   and   his  mood   as 


212  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

affected  by  the  immediate  situation  and  his  feelings 
toward  his  correspondent.  A  true  letter  is  personal  to 
both  writer  and  receiver ;  the  writer  writes  not  only 
as  he  alone  would  write,  but  as  he  would  write  only 
to  this  particular  person  on  this  particular  occasion. 
Jerome's  sympathetic  and  irascible  temperament,  so 
quickly  sensitive  to  another's  personality,  keeps  his 
letters  real,  while  his  vivacity  and  power  of  picturing 
people  and  situations  keep  them  interesting.  In  no 
other  class  of  writing  does  he  so  finely  show  himself 
the  literary  virtuoso  that  he  is.  The  resources  of 
rhetoric  are  all  drawn  upon  in  them,  nor  are  they  void 
of  the  vanity  of  authorship.  Jerome  edited  the  col- 
lection in  his  lifetime. 

In  those  writings  of  Jerome  that  may  be  called 
literary,  —  his  letters,  his  lives  of  saints,  his  De  Viris 
Illustribus,  his  translation  and  continuation  of  Euse- 
bius'  chronicle,  —  he  is  in  language  and  style  a  great 
mediator  between  classical  antiquity  and  the  times 
which  came  after  him.  His  language  is  flexible,  it  is 
freed  from  the  Ciceronian  period,  it  can  voice  Chris- 
tian feeling ;  but  it  still  is  pure,  and  preserves  the 
classical  speech  as  fully  as  is  compatible  with  the  ex- 
pression of  feeling  and  sentiments  that  were  unknown 
in  the  times  of  Cicero  and  Virgil.  In  all  these  works 
Jerome  is  the  brilliant  man  of  letters,  one  who  has 
made  classic  culture  his  own  so  far  as  that  culture 
might  pass  into  the  transformed  nature  of  a  Christian 
of  the  fourth  century.  But  there  was  another  Jerome, 
and  another  side  to  his  work  as  an  author.  He  was 
a  great  Christian  scholar,  whose  powers  were  conse- 
crated to  gaining  the  most  fundamental  knowledge 


vni]  CHRISTIAN  PROSE  213 

of  the  Scriptures  and  to  the  most  exact  rendering  in 
Latin  of  their  meaning.  This  Jerome  cares  more  for 
substance  than  for  form ;  he  does  not  hesitate  to  use 
or  even  invent  words  at  which  classic  writers  would 
have  gasped,  if  only  they  truly  render  the  thought. 
In  translating  Scripture  he  uses  words  from  the  com- 
mon speech  most  of  which  were  already  used  in  older 
Latin  versions  of  the  Bible ; 1  nor  does  he  stumble  be- 
fore necessary  Greek  or  Hebrew  words;  and  in  his 
learned  Commentaries  on  the  books  of  the  prophets 
and  the  Gospels,  or  in  his  translation  of  Origen's 
abstruse  Homilies,  he  forms  the  needed  words  along 
the  free  lines  of  development  of  the  common  spoken 
Latin.2  So  this  painstaking  learned  Jerome  is  a  po- 
tent factor  in  the  declassicizing  —  the  barbarizing  if 
you  choose  —  of  Latin. 

Besides  letters,  the  Christian  situation  soon  evoked 
apologetic  writings.  The  earliest  extant  Apology  is 
in  Greek,  that  of  Justin  Martyr,3  a  Latin-descended 
native  of  Samaria.  His  aTroXoyia  is  addressed  to  the 
Emperor  Antoninus  Pius.  It  sets  forth  the  Christian 
demand  for  justice  from  the  government;  the  injus- 
tice of  condemnation  for  a  name ;  refutes  the  charge 
of  atheism ;  shows  the  folly  of  idol  worship ;  lays 
stress  on  the  righteous,  law-abiding  lives  of  Chris- 
tians, passed  under  God's  eye  in  expectation  of  no 
earthly  kingdom,  and  in  obedience  to  the  civil  author- 
ities.    Then  it  argues  for  the  resurrection,  refers  to 

1  Cf.  Ronsch,  Itala  und  Yulgata  (1875),  Einleitung. 

2  Cf.  Goelzer,  La  Latinitt  de  St.  Jerome,  Introduction.  Jerome 
introduced  about  three  hundred  and  fifty  words  into  Latin. 

8  Born  about  114,  martyred  at  Rome,  166. 


214  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

the  Sibyl  and  to  Plato  for  foreshadowings  of  Chris- 
tian doctrine,  and  points  out  analogies  to  the  history 
of  Christ  in  pagan  mythology  ;  and  then  sets  forth  the 
Hebrew  prophecies  of  Christ's  birth,  life,  crucifixion, 
resurrection,  and  final  glory.  It  gives  an  account  of 
Christian  worship  and  customs,  to  show  their  inno- 
cent character,  and  concludes  with  a  warning  to  the 
Emperor  that  he  shall  not  escape  the  final  judgment 
of  God. 

An  dTroXoyta  is  an  argumentative  explanatory  de- 
fence. Early  Christian  apologies  might  be  addressed 
to  the  Greeks  or  Gentiles  (jrpos  "EWrjvas,  adversus 
gentes,  ad  nationes)  or  to  some  distinguished  person, 
or  might  be  directed  against  a  named  opponent,  as 
Origen' s  Contra  Celsum  (Kara  KeAoW).  They  might 
be  controversially  directed  against  paganism  or  Juda- 
ism,1 or  against  both.2  Unlike  previous  pagan  de- 
fences (e.g.,  Plato's  Apology  of  Socrates),  the  Christian 
apology  was  a  defence  of  Christianity  rather  than  a 
personal  plea  for  the  writer.3  The  form  and  contents 
differed  according  to  the  situation  and  the  nature  of 
what  was  to  be  refuted.  Thus  Origen,  Contra  Celsum, 
quotes  in  separate  excerpts  the  entire  work 4  of  his 
antagonist,  and  answers  all  in  turn. 

Latin  apologists  wrote  with  originality  and  ready 

1  Justin's  Dialogue  with  Trypho. 

2  Jewish  arguments  were  advanced  by  the  pagan  Celsus  and 
refuted  by  Origen. 

3  After  Christianity  became  the  State  religion,  a  personal  defence 
or  attack  might  be  called  an  Apology.  Jerome  and  Rufinus  wrote 
u  Apologies  "  against  each  other. 

4  Celsus  called  his  work  A6yo?  a\-q9^.  Cf .  Keim,  Celsus'  Wahres 
Wort. 


vin]  CHRISTIAN   PROSE  215 

grasp  of  at  least  the  Christian  side  of  the  situation. 
Their  writings  were  not  modelled  on  the  work  of 
Origen  or  Justin.  The  earliest,  apparently,  is  the 
much-admired  Octavius  of  Minucius  Felix.  This  is 
in  form  a  Ciceronian  dialogue,  and  argues  for  Chris- 
tianity from  a  general  theistic  stoical  standpoint. 
Specifically  Christian  themes  are  hardly  touched. 
Style  and  language  are  classical ;  there  is  no  approach 
to  a  Christian  style  or  vocabulary. 

No  more  than  the  Greek-writing  Justin  does  the 
Latin-writing  Minucius  break  with  classic  culture, 
but  only  with  polytheism.  Tertullian,  however, 
stands  for  the  Christian  revolt  against  everything 
classical  or  pagan.  He  denounces  pagan  literature 
and  philosophy  as  well  as  pagan  superstition  and  the 
tyrannical  suppression  of  Christianity  by  the  pagan 
government.  As  a  writer  he  is  extraordinarily  indi- 
vidual and  original.  His  mind  is  filled  with  Christian 
thoughts,  and  his  masterful  endeavors  to  express  them 
in  a  language  not  yet  fitted  to  Christianity  made  him 
the  great  originator  of  a  Christian  Latin  diction. 
But  passionately  as  he  was  a  Christian  and  greatly 
as  he  was  himself,  his  style  and  literary  habits  were 
affected  by  his  study  of  Roman  law  and  the  art  of 
rhetoric.  He  is  as  much  a  rhetor  as  Apuleius,  know- 
ing every  latest  trick  of  word-twisting.  His  writings 
abound  in  marvellous  antitheses,  in  rhythms  and  in 
rhymes.  A  virtuoso  in  the  advocate's  art,  he  was  a 
creator  of  Christian  arguments,  some  sophistical,  but 
all  impassioned  and  full  of  power.  His  works  were 
a  store  for  later  apologists. 

Tertullian  had  declared  that  no  misfortune  could 


216  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

come  to  men,  but  the  cry  arose  —  Christianos  ad  leo- 
nem.  This  was  true,  for  the  pagans  ascribed  public 
misfortunes  to  the  anger  of  the  gods  at  Christian 
impiety.  The  charge  was  not  to  slumber  till  the 
Empire's  overthrow  was  laid  at  Christian  doors. 
Cyprian  writes  to  refute  it  on  the  occasion  of  a  pesti- 
lence.1 A  refutation  of  like  charges  is  the  leading 
motive  of  the  lengthy  Adversus  Xationes  of  the  Afri- 
can Arnobius,  written  shortly  after  the  last  and  most 
thorough  of  all  the  persecutions,  that  under  Diocle- 
tian. Conversely,  writing  after  the  persecutions  had 
ceased,  Lactantius,2  in  his  historical  writing,  De  Mor- 
tibus  persecutonnn,  directs  his  polemic  narrative  to 
show  the  evil  ends  of  the  persecuting  emperors.  His 
great  work  was  the  Divinae  Institutiones,  written  when 
the  Christian  cause  was  nearing  its  imperial  triumph 
under  the  rising  star  of  Constantine.  There  was  then 
no  urgent  need  to  free  Christianity  from  blame  for 
the  ills  of  an  Empire  which,  for  the  time,  appeared 
to  be  renewing  its  strength ;  but  there  was  need  to 
set  forth  systematically  the  elements  of  Christian 
truth,  and  Lactantius  calls  his  work  the  Divinae  Insti- 
tutiones, using  the  title  of  elementary  legal  treatises. 
Its  general  purpose  was  to  show  that  pagan  worship 
and  philosophy  did  not  accord  with  reason  and  truth, 
while  Christianity  was  both  true  and  reasonable. 
Accordingly,  in  philosophic  manner  and  with  elegant 


1  Ad  Demetrianum,  Migne,  Patr.  Lat.,  Vol.  IV. 

2  Lactantius,  as  well  as  his  teacher,  Arnobius,  was  a  professor 
of  rhetoric  before  his  conversion  to  Christianity.  His  style  is 
classical,  and  expresses  little  Christian  feeling.  Nor  does  his  work 
represent  a  deep  understanding  of  Christianity. 


vin]  CHRISTIAN  PROSE  217 

diction,  Lactantius  begins  by  enlarging  upon  themes 
already  sketched  by  Minucius  Felix.  He  then  sets 
forth  in  detail  the  entire  volume  of  pagan  foolishness 
and  the  invalidity  of  pagan  philosophy ;  he  expounds 
the  Christian  faith,  shows  its  superiority  in  reason, 
and  the  warrants  of  its  truth  afforded  by  the  miracles 
of  Christ  and  the  predictions  of  the  prophets.  He 
discourses  upon  justice,  and  finally  upon  the  purpose 
of  the  world's  creation  and  the  course  of  the  saecula 
until  the  conflict  with  the  Antichrist ;  whereupon 
follow  Christ's  thousand  years  of  reign,  and  then  the 
final  conflict  with  the  unchained  devil  and  his  hosts ; 
the  wicked  are  overthrown  and  cast  into  Hell,  and  the 
righteous  rise  from  their  graves  to  enjoy  forever  the 
vita  beata. 

If  the  Divinae  Institutiones  was  written  when  hap- 
pier times  might  be  expected,  a  hundred  years  had 
not  passed  when  Alaric  sacked  Borne,  and  the  world 
tottered.  Pagans,  who  still  constituted  a  large  part 
of  the  Empire,  laid  the  catastrophe  to  Christianity. 
There  was  no  wide  reaction  toward  paganism  —  of 
which  there  was  enough  in  Christianity.  But  there 
was  cause  for  the  greatest  of  Christian  intellects 
since  Origen,  to  construct  a  work  more  positive  and 
systematic  than  the  Contra  Celsum;  a  work  which, 
with  more  profundity  of  thought  than  could  be  claimed 
for  Lactantius'  Divinae  Institutiones,  should  set  forth 
the  aim  and  course  and  final  goal  of  God's  Common- 
wealth. Augustine's  Civitas  Dei  undertook  to  ex- 
pound the  polity  of  Him  who  made  the  world  and 
man.  Under  His  providence  waxed  the  Empire  of 
the  earth,  the  civitas  terrena,  with  its  own  aims  leading 


218  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

away  from  God.  Within  the  guidance  of  His  love, 
endured  and  grew  the  other  city,  the  heavenly,  the 
civitas  dei.  Two  opposite  desires  —  amores — made 
these  two  commonwealths,  and  carry  them  along  diver- 
gent paths  to  different  ends,  the  one  toward  the  false 
good  of  this  life,  the  other  toward  the  true  good  of 
life  eternal:  Fecerunt  itaque  civitates  duas  amores 
duo  ;  terrenam  scilicet  amor  sui  usque  ad  contempt  urn 
dei,  coelestam  vero  amor  Dei  usque  ad  contemptum 
sui.1  The  fortunes  of  the  earthly  commonwealth 
appear  through  the  history  of  States,  until  finally 
all  elements  of  earthly  greatness  converge  in  the 
imperial  destiny  of  Rome.  The  course  of  the  other 
commonwealth  is  traced  through  the  Old  Testament; 
which  is  shown  to  be  in  harmony  with  what  its  events 
and  teachings  prefigure  and  prophesy,  Christ  and  the 
universal  Church. 

Even  the  earthly  commonwealth,  represented  in 
Rome,  had  not  gained  its  power  through  the  heathen 
gods,  but  by  its  energies,  under  God's  providence. 
Augustine's  work  refuted  pagan  assertions  that  Rome 
had  stood  by  the  power  of  her  gods :  it  set  forth  all 
the  calamities  which  had  come  before  Christianity; 
it  showed  the  evil  folly  of  pagan  worship,  the  futility 
and  falsity  of  pagan  philosophy.  With  all-embracing 
arguments  of  universal  scope  the  Civitas  Dei  should 
utterly  invalidate  paganism  and  its  claims,  and  show 
Christianity's  absolute  and  universal  truth. 

Like  Lactantius,  like  Arnobius  and  Cyprian,  Augus- 
tine had  been  a  professor  of  rhetoric,  and  his  training 
often  appears  in  the  use  of  antithesis  and  word-play 
i  Civ.  Dei,  XIV,  2$. 


vm]  CHRISTIAN  PROSE  219 

in  the  Civitas  Dei.  It  was  a  work  of  mighty  plan ; x 
but  its  author  gave  his  genius  free  course  in  this  his 
final  message,  and  allowed  himself  to  introduce  what- 
ever served  his  general  purpose,  though  it  might  in- 
fringe upon  the  continuity  of  some  leading  theme. 
The  work  was  too  universal  to  be  commonly  understood 
in  its  entirety,  though  it  was  to  be  a  many-chambered 
store,  from  which  future  men  were  to  draw  according 
to  their  power.  Imitation  of  it  as  a  whole  was  never 
attempted. 

The  Civitas  Dei  attempted  to  harmonize  the  validity 
of  Christianity  with  the  verdict  of  universal  history, 
and  to  direct  the  argument  aclversum  jmganos.  The 
third  book  took  up  the  story  of  Eome,  to  show  that 
her  greatness  was  not  due  to  the  aid  of  her  gods, 
but  that  it  came  to  her  under  the  providence  of 
the  one  true  God.  Augustine's  disciple,  Orosius,  at 
the  master's  suggestion,  undertook  to  expand  similar 
historical  themes  in  a  history  of  the  world,  adversum 
pagayios.  "  Thou  hast  commanded  me  that  as  against 
the  vain  rhetoric  of  those  who,  aliens  to  God's  Com- 
monwealth, coming  from  country  cross-roads  and  vil- 
lages are  called  pagans,  because  they  know  earthly 
things,  who  seek  not  unto  the  future  and  ignore  the 
past,  yet  cry  down  the  present  time  as  filled  with  evil, 
just  because  Christ  is  believed  and  God  is  worshipped; 
—  thou  hast  commanded  that  I  should  gather  from 
histories  and  annals  whatever  mighty  ills  and  miseries 
and  terrors  there  have  been  from  wars  and  pestilence, 
from  famine,  earthquake,  and  floods,  from  volcanic 
eruptions,  from  lightning  or  from  hail,  and  also  from 
1  Augustine  tells  its  scheme  in  Retractations,  II,  43. 


220  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

monstrous  crimes  in  the  past  centuries ;  and  that  I 
should  arrange  and  set  forth  the  matter  briefly  in  a 
book."1 

Orosius  finds  that  there  were  four  great  kingdoms 
corresponding  in  the  ineffabili  ordinatione  (sc.  Dei)  to 
the  four  quarters  of  the  earth;  first  the  Babylonian 
in  the  East ;  then  the  Macedonian  in  the  North ;  the 
African  in  the  South ;  and,  finally,  the  Roman  in  the 
West.2  Of  these, .  the  two  intervening  kingdoms  of 
Africa  and  Macedonia  act  as  the  tutors  and  curators  of 
the  heritage  of  empire,  which  is  Rome's  from  Babylon. 
Rome  was  not  ready  to  assume  this  empire  when  the 
Babylonian  power  fell.  For  Sardanapalus  was  the 
last  successor  of  Ninus,  the  founder  of  the  Babylonian 
empire;  and  the  Medes  overthrew  Sardanapalus  the 
same  year  that  Procas,  the  grandfather  of  Rhea  Silvia, 
began  to  reign  over  the  Latins.  All  these  matters 
were  so  disposed  in  the  mysteries  and  fathomless 
judgment  of  God,  and  did  not  take  place  through 
accident  or  human  power.3  Following  upon  these 
statements,  Orosius  sets  forth  certain  further  ineffable 
chronological  coincidences  and  parallels. 

1  Orosius,  Hist.,  prologue.  Beyond  the  Old  and  New  Testaments 
and  the  Jewish  Apocrypha,  Orosius  uses  Latin  sources  exclusively, 
and  chiefly  those  near  to  his  own  time.  He  knows  nothing  of  the 
Greek  histories  of  Herodotus  or  Thucydides.  He  draws  from  the 
following  writers:  Livy,  Eusebius  (Jerome's  trans.),  Justin  (who 
drew  exclusively  from  Trogus  Pompeius) ,  Eutropius ;  far  less  fre- 
quently, Caesar,  Suetonius,  Virgil,  Hirtius,  Cicero,  Sallust,  Florus, 
Rutin  us,  Augustine. 

2  The  oldest  part  of  Sibyllina  Oracula,  III,  159-162,  has  eight 
kingdoms:  1,  Egypt;  2,  Persians;  3,  Medes;  4,  Ethiopians;  5,  As- 
syria-Babylonia ;  6,  Macedonia ;  7,  Egyptian ;  8,  Rome. 

*Bist.  ,11,2. 


vm]  CHRISTIAN  PROSE  221 

The  notion  of  four  great  monarchies  set  the  plan 
according  to  which  the  Middle  Ages  divided  ancient 
history;  and  to  mediaeval  men,  chronological  corre- 
spondences, which  never  existed  in  fact,  were  to  be 
evidences  of  God's  providential  guidance  of  history, 
as  they  were  to  Orosius.  It  has  been  said  that 
Orosius  finds  for  history  a  new  principle  of  organic 
unity  in  the  thought  that  all  events  occur  within  the 
purpose  and  control  of  God's  providence.1  He  discerns 
most  interesting  evidence  of  this  in  the  providential 
bringing  of  all  nations  beneath  one  rule  and  into 
one  great  peace,  under  Augustus,  in  order  that  when 
Christ  was  born  the  gospel  might  readily  spread 
among  mankind.2 

The  chief  argument  of  Orosius'  presentation  of  his- 
tory, as  against  the  opponents  of  Christianity,  lay  in 
the  long  pre-Christian  tale  of  slaughter,  pestilence, 
and  calamity.  His  story  is  confined  to  war,  seen  in 
its  carnage,  and  to  other  ill-fortunes  of  mankind.  He 
had  no  eye  for  human  progress,  for  the  growth  of  insti- 
tutions or  culture,  nor  had  he  any  conception  of  such 
development.  His  main  apologetic  contention  is  that 
the  world  in  his  time  was  less  infelicitous  than  in  the 
periods  covered  by  his  histories.3  His  work  was  the 
Christian  argumentative  summary  of  history,  a  true 

1  Ebert.  For  the  earliest  Christian  reference  to  Providence, 
Ebert  cites  from  Minucius  Felix's  Octavius,  Chap.  25,  sec.  12:  Et 
tamen  ante  eos  (sc.  Romanos)  Deo  dispensante  diu  regna  tenerunt 
Assyrii,  Medii,  Persae,  Graeci,  etiam  et  Aegyptii.  The  Stoics  had 
developed  an  idea  of  Providence.  See  Zeller,  Philosophie  der 
Griechen,  III1,  pp.  157  et  seq.  (3d  ed.,  1880). 

2  Hist.,  VI,  1  and  22,  and  VII,  1. 
3/6.,  V,  1,2,  and  24. 


222  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

work  of  the  transition  period,  and  one  that  gave  the 
form  for  mediaeval  conceptions  of  ancient  history. 

Other  Christians  had  written  history  before  Orosius ; 
as,  for  instance,  Lactantius,  also  with  apologetic  aims, 
adversum  paganos.  The  Greek  church  historian,  Euse- 
bius,  had  composed  a  history,  to  show  the  dignity  and 
antiquity  of  the  Jewish  race  and  the  Mosaic  teaching, 
as  compared  with  heathen  culture.  Jerome  trans- 
lated this,  and  continued  it  to  his  own  time.  Such 
writings  were  narrative  arguments  for  Christianity 
and  its  sacred  prefigurement  in  Judaism.  With  some- 
what similar  purpose,  Jerome  wrote  his  De  Viris  Illus- 
tribus,  or  short  accounts  of  illustrious  Christians,  in 
order  to  show  the  pagans  that  the  Church  was  not 
unlettered,  but  had  its  philosophers  and  scholars. 
The  strain  of  narrative  glorification  of  the  Christian 
Church  is  taken  up  by  Jerome's  friend  and  enemy, 
Kufinus,  the  diligent  translator  of  Greek  Christian 
writings.  His  Historia  ecclesiastica  was  an  abbrevi- 
ated rendering  of  Eusebius'  Church  History ;  while  a 
more  original  compilation  was  his  Vitae  Pat  rum  or 
Historia  eremita,  which  he  wrote  to  commemorate  the 
wonders  of  ascetic  piety  seen  by  him  in  Egypt. 

Sulpicius  Severus  is  another  historian  of  the  early 
part  of  the  fifth  century.  His  classic  elegance  of 
language  contrasts  strangely  with  the  transitional  and 
mediaeval  character  of  the  substance  of  his  work.  His 
Chronica,  or  Historia  sacra,  a  chronological  history  of 
Christians  and  of  the  Jews  regarded  as  their  forerun- 
ners, does  not  appear  to  have  been  popular;  but  his 
Vita  Sancti  Martini  was  to  be  one  of  the  most  widely 
read  books  in  the  Middle  Ages.     Its  style  was  easy, 


vm]  CHRISTIAN  PROSE  223 

and  its  abundance  of  miracle  fell  in  with  mediaeval 
taste.  It  is  a  typical  example  of  the  Legenda  or  Vita 
Sancti,  the  number  of  which  becomes  legion  from  the 
fourth  century  onward.1 

Xot  unallied  with  apologetic  literature  were  the 
writings  directed  against  heretics,  or  intended  to  con- 
firm Catholics  in  their  orthodoxy  as  against  heretical 
arguments.  Even  in  the  time  of  the  apostles,  there 
was  call  for  argumentative  protests  against  imperfect 
acceptations  of  Christianity,  as  appears  from  Paul's 
epistles.  Thereafter  came  tracts  contra  Judaeos  which 
served  as  arguments  to  show  that  Judaism  had  been 
superseded  by  Christianity.  These  took  the  form  of 
dialogues.2  The  anti-heretical  treatises  proper  begin 
with  those  against  the  Gnostics  of  the  second  century, 
who  were  quite  as  much  latter-day  pagans  as  Chris- 
tians. Hereunder  came  the  anti-gnostic  writings  of 
Irenaeus,  bishop  of  Lyons,  and  the  Contra  Marcionem 
of  Tertullian.  This  kind  of  early  Christian  literature 
may  be  regarded  as  closing  with  Augustine's  anti- 
Manichsean  treatises. 

Besides  writings  directed  against  those  whom  all 
the  Church  might  deem  without  the  Christian  pale, 
there  were  dogmatic  controversies  within  the  large 
and  loose  circle  of  men  who  made  claim  to  orthodoxy. 
This  mass  of  theological  writing,  which  was  hardly 
literature,  represented  Christian  controversies ;  yet 
much  of  the  thought  and  terminology  came  from 
Greek  philosophy,  in  the  terms  of  which  and  in  the 
Greek   tongue  the  dogmas   of   orthodox  Christianity 

i  Cf.  Ebert,  op.  cit.,  I,  331  et  seq.,  612  et  seq. 
2  Justin's  Dialogue  with  Trypho  is  an  example. 


224  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

were  at  last  formulated  by  the  Eastern  Church,  and 
therefrom  translated  rudely  to  the  Latin  of  the  West. 

There  was  a  kind  of  actually  spoken  Christian  litera- 
ture, the  growth  of  which  was  due  to  the  inspiration 
of  Christian  teaching  and  Christian  needs.  This  was 
the  sermon,  the  Homily,  that  spoken  combination  of 
instruction  and  exhortation.  The  Christian  themes 
were  more  real  and  living  than  the  productions  of 
pagan  rhetoric ;  but  rhetoric  gave  the  form  in  which 
Christian  orators  spoke.  The  great  Greek  preachers, 
Basil,  Gregory  Nazianzen,  Chrysostom,  were  trained 
rhetoricians,  who  employed  all  the  resources  of  rhet- 
oric in  their  florid  sermons,  which,  however,  con- 
tained much  matter  and  were  adapted  to  the  situation 
and  the  needs  of  the  congregation.1  The  sermons  of 
the  great  Latin  preachers,  Ambrose  and  Augustine, 
were  less  florid  and  more  direct  and  practical.2  Yet 
they  contain  like  rhetorical  devices,  or  rather  bear 
witness  to  a  like  rhetorical  education  of  their  authors. 
For  example,  antithesis  with  a  rhyming  ending  to  the 
contrasted  parallels  is  a  characteristic  of  Cyprian's 
sermons  and  of  Augustine's.  The  great  Western 
preachers  did  not  spare  pathetic  appeals  to  the  emo- 
tions of  their  hearers  in  a  style  and  language  depart- 
ing from  the  antique. 

The  writings  already  noticed  were  by  well-known 
men  of  dignified  position  in  the  Church.  There  re- 
mains to  be  mentioned  another  sort  of  prose  literature 

1  As,  for  example,  Chrysostom's  sermons  to  the  people  of  Anti- 
och  on  the  destruction  of  the  emperor's  images. 

2  The  practical  moralizing  of  sermons  of  Pope  Leo  I  in  the  middle 
of  the  fifth  century  is  noticeable. 


vin]  CHRISTIAN  PROSE  225 

of  dubious  origin,  but  destined  to  extraordinary  popu- 
larity and  influence.  This  was  anonymous  or  pseu- 
donymous. It  received  the  forms  in  which  it  survived 
at  an  early  though  indeterminate  period,  and  its  puerile 
character  rendered  later  remodelling  unnecessary  to 
adapt  it  to  the  romantic  credulity  of  the  Middle  Ages. 
Its  main  source  lay  in  the  legends  which  had  grown 
up  around  the  canonical  accounts  of  the  ministry  of 
Jesus  and  his  apostles,  and  its  chief  extant  examples 
are  the  apocryphal  Gospels  and  the  apocryphal  Acts 
of  the  different  apostles.1  These  were  originally 
written  in  Greek.  Some  of  the  Greek  texts  still 
exist,  while  in  other  instances  only  Latin  or  Syriac  or 
Arabic  translations  remain ;  or  again  both  the  Greek 
version  and  the  translation  in  one  or  more  of  these 
other  tongues  are  extant.  Much  of  this  apocryphal 
literature  received  its  earliest  form  among  Gnostics 
or  Ebionites;  and  the  narratives  were  shaped  in  ac- 
cordance with  the  teachings  of  these  heretical  or 
imperfectly  Christianized  circles.  Yet  the  substance 
probably  was  drawn  from  legends  or  traditions  which 
were  spreading  through  Christian  communities.  Later 
orthodox  revisions  of  these  Gospels  and  Acts  omitted 
the  markedly  heretical  features  which  made  the  nar- 
ratives conflict  with  Catholic  doctrine. 

When  events  have  occurred  which  stir  the  feelings 

1  The  titles  of  the  latter  in  Greek  were :  — 

7rpa£eis  =  acta 

wcpioSoi  =  itinera 

BaxifiaTa  =  miracula,  virtutes 

/xapTvptov,  reAeiWi?  =  Passio,  consummatio 

See  Lipsius,  Die  Apokryphen  Avostelgeschichten,  Einleitung. 
Q 


226  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

and  impress  the  mind,  the  first  accounts  relate  to  facts 
most  vitally  affecting  those  concerned.  Whatever  lies 
beyond  the  central  story  may  be  actually  forgotten, 
leaving  a  fair  field  for  the  imaginations  of  succeeding 
generations.  The  four  canonical  Gospels  were  properly 
a  cvayyeAtov,  a  good  tidings,  the  announcement  and 
account  of  the  salvation  offered  to  man  through  Christ. 
It  was  left  to  the  affectionate  and  creative  curiosity 
of  the  next  decades  and  centuries  to  supplement  the 
facts  of  the  Gospel  story  with  matter  satisfactory  to 
the  imagination.  Thus  the  apocryphal  Acts  fill  out 
the  details  of  the  careers  of  the  apostles,  regarding 
whom  the  Church  preserved  the  scantiest  informa- 
tion; and  the  apocryphal  Gospels  represent  the  ex- 
pansion of  tradition,  or  rather  the  growth  of  legend, 
concerning  the  portions  of  Christ's  life  in  regard  to 
which  the  Four  Gospels  are  silent.1  There  was  also 
need  to  construct  a  story  of  Mary's  parentage,  child- 
hood, and  decease,  comporting  with  the  divine  dignity 
of  the  Blessed  Virgin. 

The  Christian  apocrypha  tells  the  story  of  Joachim 
and  Anna,  the  parents  of  the  Virgin,  a  story  sug- 
gested by  narratives  of  hardly  hoped  for  children, 
late-born  to  Sarah  in  the  Old  Testament  and  to 
Elizabeth  in  the  New,  monkish  ascetic  fancy  adding 
some  curious  features.     It  also  tells  of  Mary's  girl- 

1  Such  a  writing  as  the  Gospel  of  Peter  does  not  come  in  this 
general  category.  That  contained  topics  covered  by  the  Four  Gos- 
pels, and,  with  knowledge  of  their  narrative,  changed  the  same  to 
accord  with  Docetic  doctrines.  It  was  written  with  the  purpose  not 
to  supplement,  but  to  modify,  the  canonical  accounts ;  and  the  ex- 
tant fragment  preserves  the  distinctly  Docetic  characteristics  of  the 
writing. 


vin]  CHRISTIAN  PROSE  227 

hood  passed  as  a  virgin  in  the  Temple,  until  she  is 
given  into  the  guardianship  of  Joseph.  And  it  narrates 
her  final  glorification.1  In  the  religious  art  and  litera- 
ture of  the  Middle  Ages  the  romantic  story  of  Joachim 
and  Anna  is  as  well  known  as  the  Gospel  story  of  the 
life  of  Christ,  which  it  regularly  accompanies,2  And 
from  the  Middle  Ages  on  through  the  Eenaissance, 
few  subjects  in  religious  art  vie  in  frequency  and 
beauty  with  the  Assumption  of  the  Virgin. 

The  same  Gospels  that  tell  the  parentage  and  girl- 
hood of  Mary  give  details  of  the  Saviour's  birth  and 
childhood  alike  miraculous  and  foolish,  quite  on  a 
level  with  early  mediaeval  miracle-story.  Mary's  vir- 
ginity before  and  after  Jesus'  birth  is  established  by 
such  naive  circumstantial  narrative  as  would  ad- 
dress itself  to  the  common,  uneducated  mind.3  Cor- 
responding to  like  puerile  taste,  the  journey  to  Egypt 
is  filled  with  silly  miracle,4  and  even  more  meaningless 
and  void  of  goodness  are  the  miracles  of  the  child- 
Saviour.  He  possesses  magic  powers,  with  which  he 
amuses  himself,  or  takes  malicious  vengeance  on  his 
playmates.  Where  he  is,  there  is  no  safety  for  other 
children ;  "  Teach  him,"  say  their  parents  to  Joseph, 

1  See  Protevangelium  of  James,  Gospel  of  Pseudo-Matthew,  Gos- 
pel of  Nativity  of  Mary,  Story  of  Joseph  the  Carpenter,  Book 
of  John  concerning  the  falling  asleep  of  Mary,  The  Passing  of 
Mary. 

2  See  the  whole  story  greatly  painted  by  Giotto  in  the  Church  of 
the  Arena  at  Padua. 

3  See  Protevangelium,  19,  20;  Gospel  of  Pseudo-Matthew,  13. 
J.  Strzygowski,  Byzantinische  Denkmdler,  Bd.  I  (1891),  refers  to 
representations  in  art  of  the  proving  of  Mary's  virginity  according 
to  the  Protevangelium. 

4  See  Gospel  of  Pseudo-Matthew. 


228  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

"  to  bless  and  not  to  curse,  for  lie  is  killing  our  chil- 
dren." x 

Not  all  of  this  apocrypha  touching  Jesus  confines 
itself  to  the  periods  of  his  birth  and  childhood.  The 
story  of  his  trial,  crucifixion,  and  ascension  was  told 
in  the  canonical  Gospels ;  the  apocrypha  expands  even 
these  authoritatively  narrated  subjects.2  But  where 
was  Jesus'  spirit  while  his  body  lay  in  the  tomb? 
The  late  canonical  writing  of  Jude  says  that  he  de- 
scended to  Hades.  This  suggestion  or  tradition  was 
soon  mightily  elaborated,  and  the  legend  comes  down 
to  us  in  the  second  part  of  the  Acts  of  Pilate,  otherwise 
called  the  Gosjiel  of  ^icodemus.3  This  is  a  narrative 
of  considerable  power  and  dignity ;  perhaps  no  other 
story  regarding  Christ  more  forcibly  impressed  the 
Middle  Ages. 

The  apocryphal  Acts  of  the  various  apostles  have 
literary  and  intellectual  traits  of  the  apocryphal  Gos- 
pels. They  offered  greater  opportunity  for  the  growth 
of  romantic  episode.4     The  normal  starting-point  of 

1  Grospel  of  Thomas,  4.  See  also  Gospel  of  Pseudo-Matthew,  20- 
29.  This  part  of  the  apocryphal  narrative  may  have  been  fostered 
by  certain  of  the  Gnostic  doctrines  of  the  completed  divine  nature 
of  Christ  from  his  birth. 

2  See,  e.g.,  the  Acts  of  Pilate,  first  part. 

3  With  Gospel  of  Xicodeyyius,  etc.,  compare  Sib.  Orac,  VIII, 
310-313,  which  mentions  the  descent  into  Hades  "heralding  hope 
to  all  the  holy  ones"  there.  Ephraim  Syrus  (died  373  a.d.) 
describes  this  descent  and  the  conflict  with  death  and  Satan  in  the 
Nisibene  Hymns,  XXXV  et  seq.  See  Library  of  Nicene  Fathers, 
2d  series,  Vol.  XIII. 

4  For  instance,  in  the  Acts  of  Thomas,  the  Lord  sells  Thomas  as 
a  slave  and  handicraftsman  to  an  Indian  merchant,  the  agent  of 
an  Indian  king,  and  the  merchant  takes  the  apostle  to  India, 
to  the  royal  court.    This  is  romantic. 


vni]  CHRISTIAN  PROSE  229 

their  narratives  was  the  variously  told  story  of  the 
separation  of  the  apostles  after  Pentecost,  in  order  that 
each  might  proceed  to  the  country  which  the  casting 
of  lots  had  declared  to  be  the  field  of  his  missionary 
labors.1  Sometimes  the  apostles  set  out  at  the  com- 
mand of  the  Lord  Jesus ;  and  it  is  often  through  his 
miraculous  intervention  that  they  reach  their  haven. 
The  Lord  not  only  guides  or  transports  them  there, 
but  continues  with  them  an  ever  present  aid  in  many 
forms ;  he  appears  as  pilot,  as  a  little  child,  or  in  the 
form  of  an  apostle. 

These  various  apocryphal  Acts  appear  to  have  orig- 
inated in  heretical  settings  together  of  tradition,  and 
to  have  been  revised  in  Catholic  circles,  as  was  the 
case  with  the  apocryphal  Gospels.  They  contain  many 
beautiful  legends ; 2  yet  on  the  whole,  they  constitute 
a  popular  and  puerile  literature  wherein  the  magical 
and  the  romantic  unite.  The  miracle  is  the  unfailing 
occurrence;  only  the  natural  and  rational  is  absent. 
It  is  a  mountebank  propagation  of  the  faith  that  these 
Acts  set  forth.3 

Further,  the  Christian  apocryphal  Gospels  and  Acts 
show  traits  of  puerility,  if  not  of  literary  decadence, 
similar  to  much  in  the  Greek  love-romances  and  the 
romance  of  Alexander.4  They  answered  to  a  popular 
and  crude  literary  taste.  They  have  no  perception  of 
fitness.     Vitally  related  sequence  is  lacking ;    things 

1  See,  e.g.,  beginning  of  Acts  of  Thomas. 

2  Above  all,  the  Domine  quo  vadis  of  the  Acts  of  Peter  and 
Paul. 

8  See,  for  example,  the  Acts  of  Andrew  and  Matthew  in  the  City 
of  Man-eaters. 

4  Ante,  Chap.  III. 


230  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

happen,  and,  of  course,  miraculously.  Yet  the  reader 
may  be  certain  that  the  Lord  Jesus  will  bring  about 
the  conversion  of  many  people  through  his  apostle,  as 
well  as  that  apostle's  glorious  martyrdom,  just  as  the 
reader  of  the  Greek  romance  may  be  sure  that  Fortune 
will  bring  hero  and  heroine  to  wedded  bliss  at  last. 
Likewise,  there  is  scant  delineation  of  character  in  this 
Christian  apocrypha;  all  the  apostles  suffer  meekly, 
though  miraculously  destroying,  for  the  example's 
sake,  many  of  their  tormentors ;  all  Jews  and  heathen 
rage,  until  their  conversion:  the  purity  of  the  Virgin 
Mary  is  the  formal  priggishness  of  a  nun ;  Joseph  is 
uninteresting;  the  child-Saviour  shows  no  character 
beyond  malice,  vengefulness,  and  premature  powers  of 
disputation. 

In  many  forms  these  apocryphal  writings  reappear 
in  the  Middle  Ages.  Their  incidents  are  frequently 
reproduced,  or  an  entire  writing  is  translated,  and  is 
altered  or  added  to  according  to  the  racehood,  the  en- 
vironment, and  the  individual  taste  of  the  translator 
or  adaptor.  In  its  literary  and  intellectual  inferiority, 
the  Christian  apocrypha  bore  the  same  relation  to  the 
New  Testament  that  the  Jewish  apocrypha  bore  to  the 
Hebrew  Canon  of  the  Old  Testament.  The  Jewish 
apocrypha  was  popular  in  the  Middle  Ages,  and  as 
authoritative  as  the  books  of  the  Hebrew  Canon. 
Likewise,  much  from  the  Christian  apocrypha  was 
accepted  by  Church  and  people,  and  fills  as  large  a 
place  in  popular  literature  as  the  canonical  narratives.1 

i  "  On  ne  s'est  pas  borne  a  faire  entrer  le  pretendu  evangile  de 
Nicoderne  dans  la  plupart  des  histoires  de  la  passion  et  de  la  resur- 
rection de  Je'sus-Christ ;   il  a  pe'netre  dans  la  litte'rature  profane. 


vin]  MEDLEVALIZING  OF  PROSE  231 


III.   Medicevalizing  of  Latin  Prose 

The  death  of  Augustine  closes  the  great  constructive 
period  of  Latin  Christian  prose,  which  thereafter  is 
rapidly  mediaeval ized.  The  diction  falls  away  from 
what  had  been  idiomatic  and  correct;  it  abandons  the 
classic  order  of  words  and  loses  at  the  same  time  all 
feeling  for  the  case  endings  of  nouns  and  the  conju- 
gation of  verbs,  for  which  it  substitutes  prepositions 
and  auxiliaries  ;  many  novel  words  are  taken  from  the 
common  speech.1  The  substance  also  becomes  some- 
what debased  and  barbarized.  It  frequently  consists 
in  a  recasting  of  what  the  fourth  or  fifth  century  had 
produced,  with  the  addition  of  whatever  appealed  to 
an  insatiable  credulity.2  As  for  literary  form,  as  sig- 
nifying the  unity  and  artistic  ordering  rather  than  the 
diction  of  a  composition,  this  does  more  than  decline ; 
judged  by  any  antique  standard,  it  ceases  to  exist. 
One  cause  was  the  unintelligent  recasting  of  matter 
taken  from  the  writings  of  a  more  intellectual  period, 

Le  recit  de  la  deliverance  de  Joseph  d'Arimathie  par  le  Seigneur  a 
ete  le  point  de  depart  des  fictions  relatives  au  '  saint-graal,'  et  la 
scene  qui  nous  represente  la  deliberation  des  princes  de  l'enfer 
parait  avoir  servi  de  modele  au  conseil  des  diables  par  lequel 
s'ouvre  le  Merlin  de  Robert  de  Boron. "  Gaston  Paris,  Trois  ver- 
sions rimees,  etc.,  Introduction,  p.  ii. 

1  The  Historia  Francorum  of  Gregory  of  Tours  (538-594)  is  an 
illustration  of  all  of  this.  Cf.  Monceaux,  "Le  Latin  Vulgaire," 
Revue  des  deux  mondes,  Tom.  106  (1891) .  "  Mieux  vaut  etre  le  pre- 
mier des  chroniqueurs  romans  que  le  dernier  des  ciceroniens,"  ib. 
His  Latin  is  becoming  French. 

2  Thus  Gregory  the  Great  makes  over  much  doctrinal  material 
from  Augustine,  while  his  Dialogi  de  vita  et  miraculis  Patrum 
Italicorum  are  filled  with  monkish  miracle. 


232  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

a  recasting  which  was  always  attended  by  an  infusion 
of  barbaric  and  extraneous  elements.  A  vigorous 
barbaric  mind  may  express  fittingly  simple  subjects 
of  its  own  devising;  but  less  simple  subjects  taken 
by  semi-barbaric  or  partly  barbarized  writers  from 
works  of  men  their  superiors  in  intellect  and  culture, 
will  not  be  adequately  treated,  and  the  structure  of 
the  composition  will  be  bad.  The  writer  cannot 
present  what  he  does  not  understand ;  and,  not  per- 
ceiving the  proper  nature  and  the  scope  of  the  sub- 
ject, he  is  apt  to  wander  from  it.  The  misappreciation 
and  mishandling  of  borrowed  subjects  are  one  cause 
of  the  formlessness  of  mediaeval  literature ;  the  effect 
may  appear  in  the  chaotic  representation  of  misappre- 
ciated  topics  from  pagan  literature,  as  well  as  in  the 
distorted  treatment  of  matter  taken  from  the  Christian 
prose  writers  of  the  fourth  and  fifth  centuries. 

Moreover,  the  boundless  reach  of  Christian  thought, 
the  limitlessness  of  Christian  emotion,  and  the  unfath- 
omable mysteries  of  the  Faith  could  not  be  adjusted 
to  those  literary  forms  which  suited  the  clear  finitude 
of  classic  themes.  All  attempts  thus  to  adjust  Chris- 
tian topics  failed,  whether  in  prose1  or  metre.  At  the 
very  first,  Christian  prose  writing  had  only  such  excel- 
lence of  form  as  comes  with  the  sincere  and  ardent 
expression  of  a  deeply  felt  subject;  no  conscious  at- 
tention was  paid  to  style  or  structure.  Afterward, 
when  Christians  used  the  resources  of  pagan  literary 
education,  the  Christian  spirit  still  had  its  own  con- 

1  Whenever  a  Christian  wrote  in  classic  form,  his  work  was  apt 
to  be  more  pagan  than  Christian,  in  tone  and  feeling,  if  not  in 
thought.  E.g.,  the  Octavius  of  Minucius  Felix  or  the  Be  Officiis 
Mlnistrorum  of  Ambrose. 


vm]  MEDLEVALIZING  OF  PROSE  233 

tempt  for  form.1  All  of  this  prevented  mediaeval  lit- 
erature from  deriving  any  sense  of  form  from  the 
classics  ;  and,  however  else  a  classic  pagan  work  might 
be  valued  in  the  Middle  Ages,  the  beauty  of  its  form 
was  not  thought  of.  It  may  also  be  said,  with  refer- 
ence to  the  mediaeval  lack  of  form,  that  mediaeval 
writers  were  not  anxious  to  have  a  subject  clear-cut 
and  limited ;  but  preferred  one  which  was  univer- 
sal or  which  wandered  far  and  wide  —  a  preference 
marking  the  difference  between  the  romantic  and  the 
classical. 

Through  the  Middle  Ages,  however,  there  were  al- 
ways men  who  tried  to  imitate  the  diction  of  classic 
writers,  although  they  did  not  think  to  imitate  them 
in  the  form  and  structure  of  their  works.  This  was 
especially  the  case  in  the  Carolingian  period,  when 
conscious  imitation  of  the  Roman  past  prevailed.  Eg- 
inhard  in  his  Vita  Caroli  imitates  the  classical  style. 
Traces  of  the  same  tendency  appear  with  his  contem- 
poraries, Paulus  Diaconus  and  Servatus  Lupus,  and 
afterward  with  Lambert  von  Hersfeld.2 

Such  life  as  there  was  in  mediaeval  Latin  literature 
was  not  in  this  imitation  of  classic  style,  but  in  the 
disintegration,  the  barbarization,  of  Latin  diction,  to 
wit,  in  the  tendencies  of  the  written  Latin  to  follow, 
though  at  an  ever  increasing  distance,  the  lines  of 
evolution  of  the  Romance  languages  from  the  vulgar 

1  As  in  the  oft-cited  words  of  Gregory  the  Great,  —  "  quia  indig- 
num  vehementer  existimo,  ut  verba  coelestis  oraculi  restringara 
sub  regulis  Donati,"  Epistola  opening  the  Moralium  libri;  Migne, 
Patr.  Lat.,  75,  col.  516. 

*  Cf.  Norden,  Antike  Kunstprosa,  pp.  748-753,  and  pp.  680  et 
seq. 


234  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap,  viii 

Latin  —  an  evolution  unretarded  by  the  classical  liter- 
ary tradition.  These  vulgar  Romance  tongues  and 
the  barbaric  Teutonic  languages,  which  attained  their 
growth  under  the  auspices  of  the  Christian  religion, 
were  to  develop  the  capacity  of  expressing  Christian 
thoughts  and  voicing  Christian  feeling.  A  like  though 
narrower  capacity  was  reached  by  mediaeval  Latin  prose 
from  which  all  vestiges  of  classical  style  were  gone.1 
But  a  deeper  volume  of  Christian  feeling  rolled  through 
the  Latin  hymns,  which  of  all  mediaeval  Latin  compo- 
sitions departed  farthest  from  every  classic  prototype 
and  advanced  farthest  in  the  creation  of  an  original 
style  and  form  of  verse.  These  currents  of  life  in 
mediaeval  Latin  were  finally  extinguished  through  the 
attempt  of  the  humanists  —  Petrarch  first  and  above 
all  —  to  reawaken  and  restore  classical  Latin. 

1  E.g.  the  De  Imitatione  Christi. 


CHAPTER   IX 

CHRISTIAN    POETRY 

I.    Classic  Metre  and  Christian  Emotion 

In  order  to  appreciate  the  formal  and  substantial 
changes  through  which  poetry  passed  in  its  course 
from  paganism  to  Christianity,  and  from  the  antique 
to  the  mediaeval,  a  clear  idea  is  needed  of  some  gen- 
eral characteristics  of  Greek  verse.  The  due  appre- 
ciation and  proportionment  of  life's  elements  was  a 
principle  of  Greek  life  and  art  and  literature.  It 
forbade  excess.  It  was  also  in  happy  unison  with 
the  Hellene's  clear  mental  vision,  his  love  of  definite- 
ness,  and  his  aversion  to  whatever  was  unlimited  or 
vague.  All  of  which  is  exemplified  in  Greek  poetry. 
Its  contents  are  clear  and  proportioned,  unfailing  in 
artistic  unity.  Its  structure  consists  of  metre,  to  wit, 
ordered  measure,  the  ordering  of  what  has  definite 
quantitative  proportion. 

The  contents  and  form  of  Greek  poetry  were  closely 
united.  Pindar,  creating  an  epinician  ode,  composed 
metre,  music,  and  words.  The  simpler  lyric  metres  — 
sapphics,  alcaics,  iambics  — were  more  fixed  ;  and  yet 
they  had  been  created  in  correspondence  with  the 
nature  of  verses  which  express  the  writer's  circum- 
stances and  his  hates  and  loves.     This  was  personal 

235 


236  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

poetry,  quite  different  in  form  and  contents  from  the 
partly  impersonal  sententiousness  of  the  elegy,  and 
from  the  epic,  where  the  heroes,  not  the  poet,  speak 
and  act.  Both  epic  and  elegy  were  uttered  in  moder- 
ate musical  modes,  which  in  the  course  of  time  were 
levelled  into  recitative.  Such  poetry  could  not  be  sung, 
sung  fully,  like  Sappho's  love  poems  or  Alcaeus'  proud 
personal  lyrics.  With  Sappho  and  Alcaeus  words  and 
music  were  cast  together  so  as  to  make  one  song. 
The  music  was  syllabic,  so  to  speak;  one  syllable, 
one  note.  Nor  did  the  ethos  of  the  music  differ  from 
the  ethos  of  the  words.  The  words,  however  passion- 
ate, avoided  the  monstrous  and  unmeasured ;  the 
music  avoided  vagueness  and  excess.  Its  nature,  like 
theirs,  lay  in  measure  and  proportion. 

The  Greeks  were  eager  for  the  full  round  of  life. 
Their  intellects  ordered  and  proportioned  their  de- 
sires. Many  emotions  entered  their  lives  and  are 
uttered  in  their  poetry.  Beyond  reason's  dictates 
they  recognized  no  principle  of  exclusion.  Greek  life 
within  its  finitude  was  rounded  and  complete,  both 
actually  and  in  the  idealizations  of  poetry  and  sculp- 
ture. Emotion  contains  within  itself  no  leaven  of  pro- 
portionment.  It  may  be  strong  or  weak,  violent  or 
gentle;  but  it  remains  an  impulse  to  satisfy  itself. 
One  emotion  may  quell  another ;  but,  apart  from  such 
a  conflict  and  from  the  exhaustion  or  satisfaction  of 
an  emotion,  it  is  the  intellect  that  imposes  restraint 
and  proportion.  When  these  qualities  are  shown  in 
emotional  action,  they  are  imposed  by  the  intellect  at 
the  time,  or  else  have  been  so  constantly  impressed  upon 
the  emotions  as   to  have  become   spontaneous   emo 


ix]  CLASSIC  METRE  AND  CHRISTIAN  EMOTION       237 

tional  habit.  Because  of  the  intellectual  character  of 
the  Greek  race  the  emotion  in  their  poetry  is  clear 
and  distinct,  definite  in  its  cause,  its  nature,  and  its 
object,  and  measured  and  proportioned.  All  emotions 
are  limited ;  none  is  excluded. 

Thus  in  the  Iliad  and  Odyssey  no  feeling  natural 
to  an  early  age  is  barred  or  even  disapproved.  A 
hero  may  feel  anger,  hate,  revenge,  grief,  or  fear ;  he 
may  feel  affection,  love,  or  sexual  passion;  he  may 
entertain  desires  or  repulsions  of  any  kind.  It  is 
the  same  with  the  women  within  their  lesser  range. 
Only  let  no  hero  do  what  is  shameful  or  infatuate. 
Such  action  is  forbidden  by  wisdom  and  by  houor 
(cuSojs),  which  together  insure  success,  respect,  and 
fame.  Honor  or  reverence,  called  by  Pindar  "  the 
child  of  forethought,"  is  an  ethical  sentiment  spring- 
ing from  broad  intellectual  approvals ;  honor  and 
wisdom  impose  measure  upon  emotions  and  the  acts 
they  prompt.  Measure  is  never  absent  from  the 
characters  and  conduct  of  Homer's  heroes.  They  are 
passionate,  but  not  unrestrained;  and  their  emotions 
are  not  limitless.  One  may  feel  the  power  of  wrath 
of  wise  Odysseus,  when  at  last,  bow  in  hand,  he 
springs  upon  the  platform,  his  heart  filled  with  a 
rage  that  was  not  out  of  proportion  to  its  cause,  a  rage 
which,  once  sated,  shall  fall  to  calm,  the  suitors  slain. 
It  is  a  mighty  passion,  which  the  man's  strong  intel- 
lect has  held  restrained ;  it  is  a  beautiful  passion,  and 
has  its  cadences  like  the  bowstring  which  sang  so 
sweetly  to  his  ear.  Neither  are  the  passions  unre- 
strained of  him  who  was  the  most  deeply  passionate 
of  the  heroes.     Athene    caught   him   by  his   yellow 


238  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

hair,  and  he  thrust  back  his  sword  into  its  sheath. 
He  also  yielded  up  Briseis.  Achilles'  deepest  pas- 
sions were  his  love  for  Patroclus,  his  grief  for  him 
slain,  and  his  rage  against  the  slayer.  Even  this 
grief  and  wrath  find  their  cadences  and  final  calm. 
Once  the  hero  feared  lest,  passion  mastering  restraint, 
he  should  do  a  shameful  act  —  so  he  warns  Priam.1 
The  passions  of  the  epics  were  fitted  to  the  mighty 
but  finite  hexameter.  They  were  like  the  waves  of 
ocean,  which  never  lose  their  measure  of  rise  and  fall, 
never  lose  their  metre,  be  it  of  calm  or  storm, 
Achilles'  anger  and  the  torrent  of  his  grief  and  wrath, 
rising,  falling,  and  again  rising,  resistless  but  not  unre- 
strained, ever  roll  within  the  harmonies  of  the  metre. 

The  elegiac  metre  likewise  accords  with  the  meas- 
ured grief  which  is  its  burden.  Its  couplets  are  com- 
posed of  a  hexameter  and  a  pentameter,  that  is  to 
say,  a  hexameter  in  which  the  unemphatic  second 
half  of  the  third  foot  is  omitted,  as  well  as  the  first 
syllable  of  the  sixth  foot,  which  would  have  been  a 
spondee.  The  result  is  a  solemn  slowing  of  the  move- 
ment in  the  middle  of  the  line,  and  an  increase  of 
stress  upon  the  final  syllable  by  the  omission  of  the 
long  syllable  before  it.  The  pause  in  the  middle  of 
the  pentameter  and  the  stress  at  its  close  make  it  the 
emphatic  line  of  the  elegiac  couplet.  The  hexameter 
is  the  preparation,  the  anacrusis,  as  it  were ;  while 
the  weight  of  sententiousness,  when  the  couplet  is 
gnomic,  and  the  stress  of  the  feeling,  when  the  couplet 
is  proper  elegy,  fall  on  the  pentameter,  and  some- 
times with  marked  emphasis  upon  the  last  syllable  of 
1 II,  XXIV,  560. 


ix]  CLASSIC  METRE  AND  CHRISTIAN  EMOTION       239 

each  hemistich.  This  regular  recurrence  of  emphasis 
in  an  elegiac  couplet  renders  its  sententiousness  defi- 
nite and  its  expression  of  feeling  strikingly  measured. 
Some  examples  may  be  taken.  The  following  couplet 
of  Theognis  summarizes  much  Greek  ethics  :  — 

'M.tjdtv  Ayau  (nrevdeiv  ■  irdvrujv  fi£<r   apicrTa  '  kclI  ovtws, 
Ktipv' ,  ££eis  aperrjv,  yvre  \af$elv  xakeirbv.1 

These  lines  express  the  universal  Greek  warning, 
ixrj&lv  ayav,  "  nothing  excessively  "  ;  also  the  converse 
positive  ideal  of  the  "  mean/?  and  the  relation  of  these 
principles  to  the  achievement  of  excellence  which  is 
difficult  to  gain.  The  stress  in  the  pentameter  falls 
on  the  final  syllables  rrjv  and  7roV,  which  are  the  strong 
syllables  of  emphatic  words. 

Simonides'  epitaph  on  the  Spartan  dead  at  Ther- 
mopylae illustrates  the  preparatory  anacrusis  function 
of  the  hexameter  line,  and  the  weightiness  of  the 
pentameter :  — 

'ft  £e?*',  dyytWeLV  AaKeSaifAovlois,  6tl  tt}5c 
Kelfjieda,  tois  Keivuv  pTj/xa<rt,  ireiddfievoi.2 

And,  finally,  the  beautiful  epitaph  on  the  Eretrian 
exiles,  ascribed  to  Plato,  exemplifies  the  measure,  the 
control,  the  exquisite  rhythm  of  pathos,  which  the 
elegiac  metre  might  contain.3 

i  Bergk,  Anthol.  Lyrica,  Theognis,  335:  "Not  too  much  eager- 
ness ;  best  of  all  is  the  mean  ;  thus,  Kurnos,  shalt  thou  have  excel- 
lence, which  is  so  hard  to  catch." 

2  "  Stranger,  tell  the  Lacedaemonians  that  here 
We  lie,  to  their  laws  obedient." 

*  OlSe  ttot'  AlyaioLO  jSapu/Spo/mov  o!5/xa  AiTrdfTC? 
'EKfiaravuiv  7re5ta>  KeifxeQ'  hn  p.eo-aTu>. 
Xatpe  k\vttj  Trore  iraTplq  'Eperpta,   xa'-Pe~'  'AftfWU, 
yeiTOvey  EvjSoitjs,  Xa^.06  Qo-kavaa  <i>i\r}. 

—  Bergk,  Anthol.  Lyrica,  Plato,  9. 


240  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

Little  need  be  said  of  the  iambic  trimeters  and 
trochaic  tetrameters,  so  well  adapted  to  narrative 
which  was  not  of  epic  size  and  dignity ;  adapted  also 
to  personal  attack  and  satire.  These  metres  were  not 
suited  to  pure  song,  and  in  a  lyric  time  could  hardly 
hold  their  own.  Yet  Archilochus  expresses  himself 
as  a  true  Greek  in  them  and  bids  his  soul  consider 
the  rhythmic  beat  of  destiny :  "  Soul,  soul !  stricken 
with  overwhelming  troubles,  bear  up !  and  cast  back 
the  opposing  evil,  breast  to  foe  !  and  neither,  conquer- 
ing, foolishly  exult,  nor,  conquered,  wail  and  cry. 
But  in  joys  delight,  and  in  evils  grieve  —  not  over- 
much; so  learn  what  rhythm  holds  men."1 

The  verses  of  Sappho  give  voice  to  the  Greek 
passion  for  beauty,  beauty  the  vision ;  they  are  poems 
of  the  passion  with  which  beauty  fires  the  senses. 
The  intensity  of  these  molten  verses  has  never  been 
surpassed.  Yet  the  emotion  is  utterly  Greek  in  its 
expression — limpid,  definite,  complete,  perfect  in  form, 
free  from  vagueness  and  mysticism.  It  is  controlled 
and  modulated  in  the  exquisite  metre  through  which 
it  is  vocalized;  nothing  unmeasurable  is  suggested. 
Reading  the  two  odes  which  are  entire,  one  is  struck 
with  the  definiteness  of  statement  as  to  the  cause  and 
nature  of  the  emotion,  and  the  finiteness  of  the  emo- 
tion itself. 

•  Ov/Ae,  Ov/x*  afj.r\\6.voL(Ti  Krj8e<rt.v  Kvxw/xeve, 

avre'xev,  Sva-fxeviov  6'  aAc'^ev  npocrpa\u)v  evavrtov 
crrepvov,   ev  SokoIctlv  exflpcof  nXrjaCov  KaravTaOeis 
a<r<£>aAeu>?  •  <at  firjre  vik&v  ap.<pdSriv  aydAAeo, 
fi-qre  vucrfQels  ev  ol«o  Karaireo-iov  b&vpco  • 
aAAa  xaprolviv  re  xatPe  Kat  Ka-KOtaiv  atrxaAa 
firj  \Cr)v  •  yiyv<a<TKe  5'  otos  pvap.b<;  av0pu>irov<;  i\ei. 

—  Archilochus,  Fr.  66. 


ix]  CLASSIC  METRE  AND  CHRISTIAN  EMOTION       241 

Pindar  is  a  final  example  of  the  unison  of  words, 
metres,  and  music  in  Greek  poetry.  Emotion  is  not 
the  most  palpable  element  in  his  stately  strophes, 
those  supremely  Greek  strophes,  themselves  such  ex- 
amples of  measure  and  proportion,  of  which  they  also 
sing.  Whatever  emotions  are  expressed  in  his  epini- 
cian  odes  are  framed  in  a  consideration  of  all  life's 
factors  and  are  modulated  by  reason.  Pindar  is  not 
as  naive  as  Homer  in  the  admission  of  emotional 
desires.  Yet  he  excludes  only  the  unseemly.  Like- 
wise the  dramatists.  Theirs  also  is  a  complete  con- 
sideration of  life's  factors,  including  the  emotions 
which  come  to  mortals.  iEschylus  and  Sophocles  are 
deeply  concerned  with  the  conflict  between  human 
will  and  overhanging  destiny.  They  contribute  to  its 
ethical  adjustment  by  dramatizing  the  ruin  entailed 
by  unrestrained  impulse  and  lawless  act.  He  who 
does  not  modulate  his  acts  finds  himself  wrapped 
within  fate's  dread  measures. 

The  metres  of  the  dramas  correspond  to  their  sub- 
stance. The  iambic  trimeter,  well  suited  to  narrative 
verse,  is  strengthened  and  dignified  with  frequent 
spondees,  while  the  too  rapid  anapaest  is  avoided, 
though  Euripides  often  uses  the  still  quicker  tribrach. 
The  varied  strophes  of  the  choral  odes  suit  the  sub- 
stance as  closely  as  with  Pindar.  iEschylus'  weighty 
thoughts  roll  in  periods  unrivalled  in  sweep  and  mel- 
ody. With  Sophocles  words,  metre,  music,  produce 
the  perfect  dramatic  whole.  Disintegration  begins 
with  Euripides.  His  choral  odes  tend  to  fall  away 
from  perfect  pertinency  to  the  drama.  With  such 
discrepancy  of  contents  there  can  be  no  perfect  form. 


242  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

His  dramas  have  novel  excellences,  yet  fail  in  unity 
and  proportion.  The  emotional  contents  are  more  un- 
restrained. Passion  runs  riot,  though  the  results  still 
are  dire. 

The  unison  of  form  and  substance  ceases  in  the 
Alexandrian  period  of  literature.  Hexameter  is  used 
in  dialogue  and  narrative  unsuited  to  the  dignity  of 
that  metre ;  *  or  it  is  used  to  set  forth  science  or  philoso- 
phy.2 The  latter  was  an  affectation  with  the  Alexan- 
drians ;  for  an  adequate  prose  was  ready  to  their  hand. 
They  had  not  the  reason  of  Xenophanes  or  Parmen- 
ides  for  using  hexameter  —  that  prose  hardly  existed. 
As  for  the  metres  of  lyric  song,  the  Alexandrians  have 
lost  command  of  them. 

Lack  of  instinctive  feeling  for  the  right  metre  may 
have  been  related  to  the  falling  away  of  metrical  quan- 
tity from  the  spoken  language.  Quantity  had  prob- 
ably passed  from  Greek  speech  before  the  Christian 
era;  and  from  whatever  time  quantity  ceased  to  be 
the  basis  of  speech,  poetry  composed  in  metre  neces- 
sarily became  academic.  Its  rhythm  no  longer  cor- 
responded with  the  living  language;  and  the  more 
complicated  the  metre,  the  more  palpable  would  be 
the  artificiality  of  the  poem.  The  tendency  was  to 
use  the  simpler  metres,  which  also  passed  over  into 
Latin  literature.  That  literature  was  to  be  academic 
rather  than  spontaneous  in  its  development,  the  work  of 
men  educated  in  G  reek  poetry,  rhetoric,  and  philosophy. 
Greek  metres,  in  somewhat  blunted  modes,  constituted 
the  structure  of  Latin  poetry,  and  Greek  qualities  en- 

i  E.g.,  Theocritus,  Idyl,  XV. 
2  E.g.,  in  the  ^aivo^va  of  Aratos. 


ix]  CLASSIC   METRE  AND  CHRISTIAN  EMOTION       243 

tered  Latin  literature.  Latin  feeling  was  not  Greek 
feeling.  Yet  the  expression  of  emotion  in  poetry 
is  necessarily  in  some  accord  with  the  structure  of 
the  verse ;  and  emotional  expression  in  Latin  poetry 
was  affected  by  the  use  of  Greek  metres.  Their  early 
development  had  been  in  unison  with  the  evolution  of 
the  thought  and  feeling  of  Greek  poetry ;  they  would 
always  carry  with  them  something  of  the  quality  of 
its  ancient  thoughts  and  sentiments,  which  might  also 
survive  in  the  words  of  the  Greek  poems  or  in  bor- 
rowed Latin  phrase. 

It  may  be  doubted  whether  Homer's  spirit  dwelt  in 
Ennius'  stiff  hexameters.  It  might  be  more  at  ease 
in  the  epic  poem  in  which  classical  Latin  poetry  cul- 
minated. A  lover  woos  by  self -surrender.  Virgil  wooed 
and  won  the  epic  hexameter.  With  what  mastery  he 
made  that  his  own  is  beautifully  and  subtly  shown  in 
the  Yirgilian  expression  of  emotion.  The  pagan  heart 
had  matured  in  the  centuries  between  Homer  and  Vir- 
gil; it  had  gained  in  tenderness;  sentiments  had  re- 
fined, emotions  had  deepened.  The  older  poet  com- 
passed the  emotional  range  of  his  age.  Virgil's  pure 
nature  and  supremely  sympathetic  genius  held  the 
noblest  feeling  of  his  time.  His  contemplative,  sad- 
dened temperament  endued  all  human  situations  with 
the  pathos  of  mortality,  the  pathos  of  heroic  endeavor 
frustrated  or  saddened  in  its  success  by  the  hardship 
of  the  toil.  Through  all  his  modes  of  feeling,  through 
his  great  heart's  grief  over  the  helplessness  of  life,  his 
expression  is  controlled,  beautiful,  always  in  harmony 
with  the  music  of  his  hexameters.  The  lover  of  Vir- 
gil may  take  as  illustration  any  pathetic  passage  and 


244  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

may  find  therein  some  phase  of  pathos  hardly  to  be 
found  in  a  Greek  poet.  Moreover,  Virgilian  pathos 
usually  differs  from  prior  modes  of  emotional  expres- 
sion in  that  the  pathos  of  the  individual  situation  is 
deepened  by  its  suggestiveness  of  the  woe  of  the  whole 
world,  whereof  it  is  part.  Yet  the  mode  of  expres- 
sion always  embodies  the  Greek  qualities  of  control, 
modulation,  clarity,  and  beauty.  Inasmuch,  however, 
as  Virgilian  pathos  has  broader  range  than  pathos  in 
Sappho  or  Homer,  it  is  not  quite  so  definite  and  finite 
in  its  expression.1 

Thus  Virgil  is  Greek,  and  something  more.  The 
intense  passion  of  other  Latin  poets  also  presents 
qualities  of  the  metres  used  and  of  the  sentiments 
expressed  in  the  Greek  poems  written  in  them.  Lucre- 
tius' contempt  and  pity  seem  never  to  break  the  roll 
of  his  hexameters.  Catullus'  expression  of  emotion 
has  the  Greek  qualities  of  definiteness,  adequacy, 
point,  and  necessary  limitation.  The  Greek  control  is 
pronounced  in  Horace,  with  whom  the  emotional  ele- 
ment is  at  times  hardly  strong  enough  to  make  his 
verses  poetry.  There  is  genuine  feeling  whenever 
he  touches  upon  themes  of  mortality ;  but  the  classic 
modulation  of  expression  never  fails. 

The  time  of  a  new  religion  was  at  hand,  and  novel 
thoughts,  changed  views  of  life,  and  modes  of  emotion 
heretofore  unfelt  were  soon  to  seek  appropriate  poetic 
forms.  Such  forms  did  not  exist  in  the  opening  cen- 
turies of  the  Christian  era.  The  old  metres  were  no 
longer  in  accord  with  actual  speech.     The  Christian 

1  Cf .  Taylor,  Ancient  Ideals,  II,  pp.  32-40,  and  examples  of  pathos 
from  Homer  and  Virgil  there  cited. 


a]  CLASSIC  METRE  AND  CHRISTIAN  EMOTION       245 

soul  could  not  express  itself  in  artificial  verse.  It 
needed  poetic  forms  which  should  draw  their  life 
from  living  speech  as  the  classic  metres  had  drawn 
theirs. 

There  were  other  reasons  why  the  old  metres  were 
not  suited  to  Christian  poetry.  The  spirit  of  Chris- 
tianity was  not  the  spirit  of  paganism.  Christian  emo- 
tion differed  from  the  emotions  of  pagan  life  or  pagan 
literature,  and,  if  it  was  to  become  articulate  in  poetry, 
it  must  evolve  its  own  forms  of  verse.  Control,  mod- 
eration, and  inclusiveness  were  characteristic  of  the 
emotions  as  expressed  in  classic  Greek  and  Latin  po- 
etry. Christian  emotion  was  to  be  characterized  by 
qualities  the  opposite  of  these.  Control,  moderation, 
inclusiveness,  were  absent.  Instead,  there  were  both 
excess  and  exclusion.  The  classic  /x^Sev  dyav  was  aban- 
doned; the  Christian  heart  could  not  hold  too  much 
love  of  God.  There  was  no  bound  to  the  passion 
with  which  the  soul  should  cast  itself  down  before 
Him.  Then  there  was  exclusion.  For  as  Christianity 
was  interpreted  in  the  fourth  century  and  through 
the  Middle  Ages  it  excluded  one  side  of  human  emo- 
tion. True,  in  the  love  of  God  there  might  be  a 
larger  inclusiveness  than  in  the  pagan  range  of 
feeling ;  it  might  hold  the  proportionment  of  all 
mortal  affections,  as  Augustine  saw.  But  the  appli- 
cation of  such  thoughts  was  defeated  by  the  causes 
which  were  making  monasticism  the  ideal  of  Chris- 
tian life. 

Again,  emotion  as  expressed  in  classic  literature 
was  clear,  definite,  and  finite.  Christian  emotion  was 
to  know  neither  clarity  nor   measure.     Its   supreme 


246  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

object,  God,  was  infinite ;  and  the  emotion  directed 
toward  Him  might  be  vague  and  mystic,  so  unlimited 
was  it.  God  was  infinite  and  man's  soul  eternal ; 
what  finitude  could  enter  the  love  between  them  ? 
Classic  metres  expressed  measured  feelings.  Hexam- 
eters had  given  voice  to  many  emotions  beautifully, 
with  unfailing  modulation  of  calm  or  storm.  They 
had  never  revealed  the  infinite  heart  of  God,  or  told 
the  yearning  of  the  soul  responding;  nor  were  they 
ever  to  be  the  instrument  of  these  supreme  disclosures 
in  Christian  times.  Such  unmeasured  feelings  could 
not  be  held  within  the  controlled  harmonies  of  the 
hexameter  nor  within  sapphic  or  alcaic  or  Pindaric 
strophes.  These  antique  forms  of  poetry  definitely 
expressed  their  contents,  although  sometimes  suggest- 
ing further  unspoken  feeling,  which  is  so  noticeable 
with  Virgil.  But  characteristic  Christian  poetry,  like 
the  Latin  mediaeval  hymn,  was  not  to  express  its  mean- 
ing as  definitely  or  contain  its  significance.  Mediaeval 
hymns  are  childlike,  having  often  a  narrow  clearness  in 
their  literal  sense ;  and  they  may  be  childlike,  too,  in 
their  expressed  symbolism.  Their  significance  reaches 
far  beyond  their  utterance ;  they  suggest,  they  echo,  and 
they  listen ;  around  them  rolls  the  voice  of  God,  the 
infinitude  of  His  love  and  wrath,  heaven's  chorus  and 
hell's  agonies ;  dies  irae,  dies  ilia  —  that  line  says  little, 
but  mountains  of  wrath  press  on  it,  from  which  the 
soul  shall  not  escape. 

Christian  emotion  quivers  differently  from  any 
movement  of  the  spirit  in  classic  measures.  The  new 
quiver,  the  new  shudder,  the  utter  terror,  and  the  utter 
love  appear  in  mediaeval  rhymed  accentual  poetry  :  — 


k]  greek  christian  poetry  247 

Desidero  te  mil  lies, 
Ml  Jesu  ;  quando  venies  ? 
Me  laetum  quando  fades, 
Ut  vultu  tuo  saties  f 

Quo  dolore 

Quo  moerore 
Deprimuntur  miseri, 

Qui  abyssis 

Pro  commissi* 
Submergentur  inferi. 

Pecordare,  Jesu  pie, 
Quod  sum  causa  tuae  viae  ; 
Xe  me  perdas  ilia  die. 
*  *  *  * 

Lacrymosa  dies  ilia 
Qua  resurget  exfaviUcl, 
Judicandus  homo  reus  ; 
Huic  ergo  par ce,  Deus  ! 
Pie  Jesu,  Domine. 
Dona  eis  requiem. 

Let  any  one  feel  the  emotion  of  these  verses  and 
then  turn  to  some  piece  of  classic  poetry,  a  passage 
from  Homer  or  Virgil,  an  elegiac  couplet  or  a  strophe 
from  Sappho  or  Pindar  or  Catullus,  and  he  will  realize 
the  difference,  and  the  impossibility  of  setting  the 
emotion  of  a  mediaeval  hymn  in  a  classic  metre.1 

II.    Greek  Christian  Poetry 

Christian  poetry  would  naturally  be  drawn  from  the 
narratives  of  the  Old  and  Xew  Testaments,  and  the 

1  The  Veni  sancte  spiritus  (Clement,  Carmine  e  Poetis  Chris- 
tianis,  p.  404)  is  an  example  of  how  much  there  is  outside  the 
lines,  yet  carried  or  suggested  by  the  hymn. 


248  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

continually  increasing  volume  of  Christian  story,  or 
would  consist  of  the  sentiments  and  emotions  which 
were  deepening  from  generation  to  generation  in  Chris- 
tian souls.  Holy  Scripture  could  not  be  moulded  anew 
to  suit  the  needs  of  creative  poetry  in  the  way  that 
the  Greek  and  Eoman  poets  recast  the  tales  of  pagan 
mythology.  The  canonical  narratives  remained  indu- 
bitable facts  authoritatively  stated.  Although  they 
were  interpreted  both  allegorically  and  literally,  no  one 
changed  them.  Original  narrative  Christian  poetry  was 
not  written  until  the  heroism  of  martyrs  furnished 
material  which  the  imaginative  Christian  memory  might 
cherish  reverently  and  hand  on  through  that  univer- 
salizing process  which  raises  fact  to  poetry.  The  po- 
etic intention  still  would  be  to  tell  the  truth,  but  the 
poet  was  not  hampered  in  his  truth-telling  by  sacred 
narrative.1 

Somewhat  analogous  conditions  affected  and  perhaps 
retarded  the  composition  of  Christian  lyric  poetry. 
The  fundamental,  as  it  were,  theistic,  emotional  atti- 
tude of  the  Christian  soul  was  already  authoritatively 

1  The  first  Christian  narrative  poems,  which  were  creations  and 
not  paraphrases,  were  in  Latin,  the  ballads  of  Prudentius  upon  the 
heroic  careers  of  martyrs,  composing  his  Peristephanon.  To  these 
we  might  add  two  hymns  from  his  Cathemerinon ;  IX,  Hymnus 
omnis  horae,  and  XII,  Hymnus  Epiphaniae,  which  are  lyrical  nar- 
rative poems  with  Biblical  subjects.  It  was  after  his  time  that 
Avitus  wrote  a  veritable  poem  on  the  Fall  of  Man.  This  is  the  piece 
of  Biblical  narrative  that  has  been  most  successfully  treated  in 
narrative  poetry ;  the  brief  Biblical  account  is  suited  to  dramatic 
and  narrative  expansion.  The  subject-matter  of  the  Old  and  New 
Testament  narratives  has  lent  itself  more  frequently  to  great  art 
than  to  great  poetry ;  for  the  sacred  story  came  down  authorita- 
tively told,  but  not  authoritatively  illustrated. 


ix]  GREEK  CHRISTIAN  POETRY  249 

voiced,  and  with  fervor  and  universality.  The  first 
Christians  were  Jews,  and  the  Christian  communities 
took  from  the  synagogue  the  custom  of  singing  God's 
praises,  as  well  as  the  songs  in  which  to  sing  them. 
For  three  centuries  the  Psalms  constituted  the  main 
body  of  Christian  devotional  song.  It  was  a  paschal 
psalm  that  Christ  and  his  disciples  sang  on  the  night 
of  his  betrayal.1  The  apostle  Paul  bids  his  hearers 
be  filled  with  the  Spirit,  speaking  one  to  another  in 
psalms  and  hymns  and  spiritual  songs  (i/>aA//,ots  ko.1  v/avoi? 
Kal  aJSats  7rvcv/xariKcuV),  singing  and  making  melody 
(aSovTc?  Kal  if/dWovTcs)  in  your  heart  to  the  Lord.8 
Here  the  "  psalms  "  mean  psalms  of  David  or  psalms 
derived  from  them ; 3  the  "  hymns  "  are  songs  of  praise ; 
the  "spiritual  songs"  (cantica  spiritualia  in  the  Latin 
version)  are  more  specifically  songs  directly  inspired 
by  the  Spirit.  But  the  exhortation  "  be  filled  with 
the  Spirit,"  and  speak  or  sing,  applies  to  all  these 
utterances,  and  indicates  that,  just  as  the  brother 
might  be  moved  to  sing  an  Old  Testament  psalm,  so 
in  the  singing  he  might  be  moved  to  vary  from  it,  or 
voice  his  feelings  in  new-formed  utterances,  probably 
consisting  mainly  of  combinations  of  Biblical  phrases. 
Canonical  examples  of  these  Christian  hymns  are 
Mary's  Magnificat,  and  Zachariah's  song  of  praise,4 
both  of  which  consist  largely  of  Old  Testament 
phrases.  The  angel's  song ,  Glory  to  God  in  the  high- 
est and  on  earth  peace,  good  will  to  men,5  was  enlarged 

1  Mat.  xxvi.  30;   Mk.  xiv.  26.     See  Thayer's  New  Testament 
Lexicon  ;  Edersheim,  Life  of  Christy  Bk.  V,  Chap.  12. 

2  Eph.  v.  19,  20;  Col.  iii.  16.  *  Cf.  1  Cor.  xiv.  15,  26. 
4  Luke  i.  46,  etc.,  and  67,  etc.  6  Luke  ii.  14. 


250 


THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE 


[chap. 


into  the  matin  hymn,  the  r/xvos  dyyeAiKos  of  the  Greek 
liturgy,  of  which  the  Latin  doxologia  magna  is  the 
equivalent.  These  compositions  are  not  metrical,  and 
their  structure  preserves  the  parallelism  of  Hebrew 
poetry. 

Thus  the  earliest  poetical  expressions  of  Christian 
emotion  in  the  Greek  tongue  were  Hebraistic  in  form. 
Likewise  their  contents  were  more  Hebraic  than  Greek. 
The  Hebrew  devotion  to  God  was  the  prototype  of  the 
Christian's  love.  It  had  always  been  unmeasured, 
absolute,  quite  different  from  anything  in  classic 
Greek  or  Latin  literature.  Now  a  like  devotional 
feeling  was  to  seek  expression  in  strange  languages 
whose  chief  poetic  forms  were  dead  or  academic. 
Yet,  although  academic  and  otherwise  un suited  to  ex- 
press Christian  feeling,  metre  was  the  only  form  of 
verse  familiar  to  educated  Greek  and  Latin  Christians, 
and  metrical  Christian  poetry  was  written  in  both  these 
tongues.  We  may  trace  its  failure  and  early  disap- 
pearance in  Greek.  In  Latin  it  had  some  temporary 
success. 

In  the  first  place  there  was  a  partly  pre-Christian 
Graeco-Jewish  hybrid.  The  earliest  portions  of  the 
extant  pseudo-Sibylline  Oracles  were  composed  at 
Alexandria  by  Hellenized  Jews  in  the  second  century 
before  Christ.  Judaic  Christians  added  some  hundreds 
of  lines  toward  the  close  of  the  first  century  a.d.  ; 
and  in  the  course  of  the  second  and  third  centuries, 
Christians  or  Judaic  Christians  brought  the  collection 
to  its  present  bulk.  Much  space  would  be  needed  to 
analyze  the  contents  of  this  series  of  pseudo-prophetic 
pictures  of  the  world's  history  from  the  creation  to  the 


ix]  GREEK  CHRISTIAN  POETRY  251 

Last  Times.  They  are  lurid  with  hatred  of  the 
heathen  nations,  of  Rome  above  all.  From  the  time 
of  Justin  Martyr  many  Christian  Fathers  accepted 
them,  and  so  the  ancient  Sibyl  entered  the  company 
of  those  who  prophesied  of  Christ.  Through  the  Mid- 
dle Ages  the  Sibyl  remained  a  great  name  in  poetry 
and  art. 

These  Sibylline  Oracles  show  some  Hellenistic  liter- 
ary skill.  The  metre  is  hexameter,  and  many  lines  con- 
tain queer  twisted  survivals  of  Homeric  phrase,  which 
impart  a  grotesque  epic  flavor  to  the  whole.  Jewish 
fanaticism  and  Christian  feeling  break  through  occa- 
sionally; but  on  the  whole,  hexameter  metre  and  epic 
reminiscence  dominate  the  form  and  influence  the 
matter  of  the  verses,  curiously  affecting  the  emotional 
contents.  Even  in  the  oldest  Jewish1  or  Judaic-Chris- 
tian2 portions,  there  is  slight  trace  of  Hebraic  paral- 
lelism of  statement,  but  much  Homeric  adjective  and 
epithet. 

Christian  feeling  struggles  to  expression  in  those 
portions  of  the  sixth  and  eighth  books  which  are  not 
earlier  than  the  third  century;  but  the  expression  is 
still  affected  by  epic  phrase  and  by  the  hexameter. 
The  famous  acrostic  begins  at  line  217  of  Book  VIII : 
IH20Y2  XPEI2T02  ©EOY  YI02  2OTHP  2TAYP02. 
It  closes  with  a  glorification  of  the  Cross ;  and  then 
comes  a  reference  to  Moses  conquering  Amalek  by  faith, 
stretching  out  his  arms ; 3  in  which  act  Moses  is  sym- 
bolical of  Christ.    Lines  256-259  delineate  Christ's  in- 

1  Sib.  Orac,  III,  97-2&L;  t&.,  489-817  (second  century  B.C.) 

2  Bk.  IV,  cir.  80  a.d. 
«  VIII,  251. 


252  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

carnation  as  his  first  coming  to  judgment,  and  with,  a 
realization  of  its  great  condescension ; 

Ovdt  yh.p  4v  S6l-r},  d\\'  ws  pporbs  els  Kpiaiv  iffei, 
OUrpbs,  dri/JLos,  &pLOp<pos,  tv'  oUrpots  i\iri8a  S&ffei  .  .   . 

There  follows  a  short  review  of  Christ's  works  until 
he  gives  himself  for  the  world  a  'pure  virgin,'  wapdevov 

In  a  subsequent  part  of  the  same  book  is  told  the 
annunciation,  the  incarnation,  and  then  the  birth  of 
Christ,  —  a  child  from  "  virgin  parents  a  great  marvel 
to  mortals,"  fxiya  6avfxa  fiporounv] 2  and  if  this  phrase 
does  not  transport  us  from  Bethlehem  to  Troy,  we  are 
at  least  carried  part  way  to  Ida  by  the  lines  which 
follow :  — 

TiKTSfxevov  5£  $p£<pos  TorcS^aro  yrjdoo-tivrj  x^^v  ' 
Otipdvios  8*  £y£ka<r<re  6p6vos,  ical  ay&Wero  k6o*/xoj.* 

Such  passages  relate  to  Christian  matters,  yet  con- 
tain little  Christian  feeling,4  which,  however,  breaks 
through  the  hexameter  in  the  sixth  book,  when  the 
blessed  Cross  is  apostrophized  in  words  prefiguring 

i  VIII,  291. 

2  VIII,  473 ;  cf .  Od.,  XI,  287.  The  more  frequent  Homeric  phrase 
is  0au/x<x  i8e<r9(u  ;  e.g.,  U.  XVIII,  83,  377,  —  but  the  pporolatv  is  so  very 
classic  in  its  suggestion. 

8  The  words  are  not  those  of  the  description  of  Zeus  and  Hera 
on  Ida,  in  II.,  XIV,  347,  etc. ;  but  compare  //.,  XIX,  362.  These  pas- 
sages, like  others  in  the  Sibylline  Oracles,  suggest  passages  in  Homer, 
but  do  not  reproduce  them. 

4  The  incompatibility  of  hexameter  with  Hebraic  feeling  appears 
in  the  translation  by  the  younger  Apollinarius  (390  a.d.)  of  the 
sixty-sixth  psalm  into  Greek  hexameters.  The  result  is  something 
too  Homeric  for  a  psalm  and  too  Hebraic  to  be  really  Greek,  as 
Bouvy  says,  Poetes  et  Melodes,  pp.  43-51. 


ix]  GREEK  CHRISTIAN  POETRY  253 

that  veneration  of  power  in  humility  which  encircles 
thoughts  of  the  Cross  in  later  literature  and  art :  — 

0  i-v\ov  u  /j.a.Kapi<7Tbv,  i(p'  $  0e6s  ^eravva-drj,   .    .   , 

"  0  most  blessed  wood  on  which  God  was  stretched ; 
earth  shall  not  hold  thee,  but  thou  shalt  see  the  heav- 
enly house  when  the  face  of  God  shall  gleam  burning 
anew." 

The  later  portions  of  the  Sibylline  books  contain 
metrical  irregularities  indicating  that  quantity  as  the 
principle  of  verse  formation  was  beginning  to  find  a 
rival  in  a  fresher  principle  more  in  accord  with  the 
actualities  of  speech,  to  wit,  accent.  Frequently  in 
these  verses  a  short  syllable  appears  lengthened  be- 
cause of  the  accent,  or  a  long  syllable  shortened,  when 
the  accent  falls  on  another  syllable  of  the  word.1 

The  struggle  for  supremacy  between  metre  and 
accent  appears  in  two  early  Christian  compositions, 
which  express  true  Christian  feeling.  The  first  of 
these  is  a  poem  found  at  the  end  of  the  Paedagogns  of 
Clement  of  Alexandria,  who  died  between  211  and 
218  a.d.  If  not  written  by  him,  it  is  not  much  later 
than  his  time.  The  lines  are  short  and  simple ;  but 
metricians  differ  as  to  whether  the  metre  is  iambic 
or  anapaestic.  It  seems  to  be  constructed  largely  of 
anapaestic  words  rather  than  anapaestic  feet;  that  is 
to  say,  it  contains  many  words  of  three  syllables, 
accented  on  the  final  syllable,  which  is  also  long  in 
quantity.  At  all  events,  accent  is  asserting  itself  as 
a  vital  force.  The  verses  are  addressed  to  Christ,  and 
&re  filled  with  images   showing  the  many  ways  in 

1  See  Bouvy,  op.  cit.,  pp.  127-13& 


254  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

which  Christ  was  then  thought  and  felt  by  the  Chris- 
tian soul. 

"  Bridle  of  untamed  colts, 
Wing  of  straight-flying  birds, 
Sure  helm  of  helpless  ones, 
Shepherd  of  the  King's  sheep, 
Thine  own  simple 
Children  lead 
Holily  to  praise 
Guilelessly  to  sing 
With  sinless  mouths 
The  children's  leader,  Christ 

King  of  the  holy  ones, 
All  conquering  word 
Of  the  highest  Father, 
Prefect  of  wisdom, 
Support  of  burdens, 
Rejoicing  eternally, 
Of  the  mortal  race 
Saviour  Jesus. 

Shepherd,  husbandman, 

Helm,  bridle, 

Heavenly  wing 

Of  the  hallowed  flock, 

Fisher  of  men 

Who  are  saved, 

Catching  with  the  bait  of  sweet  life 

The  holy  fishes 

From  the  hostile  wave 

Of  the  sea  of  evil. 

Lead,  shepherd 

Of  the  speaking  sheep, 

Lead,  holy  one, 

King  of  unharmed  boys. 


ix]  GREEK  CHRISTIAN   POETRY  255 

Footprints  of  Christ, 
Heavenly  way, 
Word  everlasting, 
Time  unbounded, 
Eternal  light, 
Font  of  mercy, 
Doer  of  good, 
Holy  life, 

God  of  those  who  sing  praises, 
Christ  Jesus, 
Heavenly  milk 
Of  the  sweet  breasts 
Of  the  bride  of  grace. 
*  *  *  * 

Let  us  sing  together, 
Let  us  sing  simply 
The  mighty  child, 
(We)  the  choir  of  peace, 
The  Christ-begotten, 
The  sober  folk, 
Let  us  sing  a  psalm 
To  the  God  of  peace.1 

If  we  disregard  the  lyric  passages  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment, this  hymn  is  perhaps  the  earliest  outpour  in 
verse  of  the  Christian  soul  that  has  come  down  to  us. 

The  second  of  these  compositions  is  the  work  of 
Methodius  (martyred  in  311,  probably  at  Tyre).  In 
his  didactic  and  partly  allegorical  work,  the  Sympo- 
sium of  the  Ten  Virgins,  modelled  —  afar  off  —  on 
Plato's  Symposium,  each  virgin  talks  lengthily  in 
praise  of  virginity.  Their  views  and  sentiments,  how- 
ever, are  at  the  end  fused  into  feeling  in  a  genuine 

1  The  translation  is  literal,  line  for  line,  but  does  not  attempt  to 
reproduce  the  metre. 


256  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

lyric,  the  hymn  of  praise  to  Christ  the  bridegroom, 
which  is  sung  by  one  of  the  virgins,  while  the  others 
respond  in  chorus  with  recurring  refrain.  The  metre 
is  iambic,  but  with  so  many  violations  of  quantity  as 
to  indicate  that  the  poet  —  a  learned  man  —  realized 
the  existence  of  accent  as  a  principle  of  verse.  In 
form  the  hymn  appears  related  to  the  classic  Par- 
thenia,  as  of  Pindar  and  Alcman,  some  fragments  of 
which  remain.  But  instead  of  Greek  maidens  singing 
a  glad  farewell  to  maidenhood,  here  Christian  virgins 
utter  the  soul's  ecstasy  on  its  mystic  espousals  unto 
everlasting  virginity.  "  I  am  pure  for  thee,  and  bear- 
ing lighted  torches,  0  bridegroom,  I  go  to  meet  thee  " 
—  this  is  the  choral  refrain ;  and  the  verses  hymn  the 
joy  of  the  virgin  soul  as  it  hears  the  call  of  the 
heavenly  bridegroom  and  hastens  to  meet  him  clothed 
in  white,  gladly  fleeing  the  marriage  bed  and  the 
mournful  joys  of  mortals,  yearning  for  the  shelter  of 
the  bridegroom's  life-giving  arms  and  for  the  sight  of 
his  beauty.  The  closing  strophes  draw  the  Old  Testa- 
ment types  of  virgin  chastity  into  this  song  of  praise. 
A  comparison  of  these  poems  with  the  correct  met- 
rical compositions  of  Gregory  ISTazianzen  and  Synesius 
goes  far  to  show  that  the  simple  and  sincere  tone  of 
the  earlier  compositions  is  not  unrelated  to  their 
violation  of  metre  and  recognition  of  the  force  of 
accent.  The  poems  of  Synesius  and  Gregory,  on  the 
other  hand,  illustrate  the  final  failure  of  metrical 
Christian  poetry  in  Greek.  Synesius,  the  younger  of 
the  two,  never  dropped  his  Neo-platonism.1  He  com- 
posed a  number  of  hymns  metrically  correct ;  but  his 
i  Ante,  p.  78. 


a]  GREEK  CHRISTIAN  POETRY  257 

confused  sentiments  did  not  allow  him  to  express  dis- 
tinctly Christian  feeling.  It  was  quite  different  with 
the  fervent  Gregory  Nazianzen,  whose  pulpit  oratory 
held  Christian  hearts  enthralled.  His  was  a  poetic, 
emotional  nature ;  his  rhetorical  powers  were  great ; 
and  he  composed  many  metrical  hymns  quite  Chris- 
tian in  their  sentiments.  But  they  never  touched  the 
people,  as  his  sermons  moved  them;  nor  were  they 
ever  taken  into  the  liturgy.  They  afford  an  example 
of  compositions  according  with  the  literary  taste  of 
the  latter  part  of  the  fourth  century,  a  taste  so  trained 
in  classical  poetry  and  metre  that  it  could  not  readily 
conceive  of  poetry  based  on  other  principles.  Such 
academic  taste  was  scarcely  conscious  that  metre  no 
longer  bore  any  real  relation  to  the  sound  of  living 
speech,  and  that  metrical  poems  in  consequence  could 
no  longer  possess  the  breath  of  life. 

There  was,  however,  a  living  speech  and  utterance 
based  upon  that  which  makes  a  polysyllabic  word  a 
unity  and  gives  to  spoken  language  rhythm  and 
emphasis.  This  was  the  word-accent.  Although  col- 
loquial language  was  not  cast  in  the  balanced  periods 
of  orators,  and  oratorical  utterance  outsoared  common 
speech,  accent  was  as  dominant  in  one  as  in  the  other. 
However,  as  metre  was  the  only  principle  of  verse- 
structure  recognized  in  the  Greek  world,  all  unmetri- 
cal  compositions  were  regarded  as  prose.  The  Old 
Testament,  as  used  by  the  Eastern  Church,  was  a 
translation  from  the  Hebrew;  and  the  New  Testament 
was  written  in  a  Semitically  influenced  Greek  which 
expressed  thought  simply  and  directly,  regardless  of 
rhetorical  conventions.      Both   Testaments  were   un- 


258  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

suited  for  translation  in  any  classic  metre.  The 
churches  were  accustomed  to  give  utterance  to  their 
faith  and  feeling  in  scriptural  phrases.  There  always 
had  been  singing.  The  simplest  singing  is  melodious, 
and  tends  to  bring  into  a  rhythmic  order  whatever 
words  are  sung.  It  was  natural  and  easy  to  bring 
Greek  words  to  an  accentually  rhythmic  order,  that  is, 
an  order  having  a  regular  recurrence  of  accented  sylla- 
bles. Since  the  men  who  directed  this  choral  worship 
had  little  conception  of  poetry  based  on  accentual 
rhythm,  they  were  not  conscious  that  they  were  bring- 
ing into  existence  a  new  form  of  poetry.  But  such 
was  the  fact. 

There  existed,  moreover,  rhythmic  precedents  which 
influenced  the  progress  of  liturgical  chant.  From  the 
time  of  the  Sophist  Gorgias,  all  Greek  prose  that  had 
style,  and  embodied  rhetorical  principles  as  understood 
by  antiquity,  was  rhythmical ;  that  is  to  say,  within 
its  periods  the  succession  of  strong  sounds  was  or- 
dered so  as  to  yield  a  rhythm  pleasing  to  the  ear,  and 
suited  to  the  elevated  and  semi-musical  manner  in 
which  dignified  compositions  were  read  or  recited.1 
Such  prose  was  not  regarded  as  poetry,  and  did  not  in 
classical  times  develop  definite  parallelisms  of  accent- 
ual and  strophic  forms.  So  long  as  quantity  survived 
in  speech,  the  rhythm  of  prose  would  in  part  depend 
on  it;  but  as  quantity  ceased  to  exist,  the  prose 
rhythm  became  more  exclusively  dependent  upon  ac- 
cent, which  had  always  made  part  of  it.  Rhythmic 
prose  continued  in  vogue  among  rhetoricians  and  ora- 
tors into  the  Christian  period.  It  is  marked  in  the 
1  See  Norden,  Die  antike  Kwistprosa,  p.  41  et  seq. 


ix]  GREEK  CHRISTIAN  POETRY  259 

sermons  of  the  Greek  preachers,  Chrysostom,  Basil, 
and  Gregory  Nazianzen.  Such  rhythms  needed  only 
to  be  more  definitely  ordered  into  parallel  cadences 
and  strophes  to  present  forms  of  accentual  verse. 

Thus  Greek  accentual  verse  probably  sprang  from 
rhythmic  prose.1  And  so  in  all  likelihood  did  rhyme. 
The  word  rhyme  has  no  connection  with  the  word 
rhythm,  nor  is  rhyme  necessary  to  accentual  verse. 
Nevertheless,  rhyme  was  usually  present.  On  the 
other  hand,  in  classical  Greek  metrical  poetry,  rhymes, 
if  not  accidental,  were  never  an  essential  element  of 
metrical  verse  structure.  But  apparently  it  was 
otherwise  in  Greek  rhythmic  prose,  where  frequently 
rhymes  occur  deepening  and  denning  the  accentual 
rhythm;  they  are  marked  in  the  emotional  climaxes 
of  oratorical  speech,  and  are  clearly  intended  to  add 
emphasis.  As  Greek  accentual  verse  took  the  sugges- 
tion of  its  rhythmic  structure  from  rhythmic  prose,  it 
probably  took  rhyme  from  the  same  source. 

Besides  his  metrical  hymns  already  alluded  to, 
Gregory  Nazianzen  composed  two  hymns,  the  rhythm 
of  which  was  dependent  on  accent.  They  were  not 
fully  successful,  for  accentual  verse  was  in  a  rudi- 
mentary  stage.2      Its   forms,   perfected   in   line   and 

1  Cf.  Norden,  op.  cit.,  p.  843,  etc. ;  Krumbacher,  Geschichte  der 
byzantinischen  Literatur,  §  291,  pp.  702-705  (2d  ed.)-  For  another 
view,  that  Latin  and  Greek  Christian  accentual  poetry  was  deeply- 
influenced  by  Semitic  —  i.e.  Syrian  —  forms,  see  "W.  Meyer,  "An- 
fang,  etc.,  lat.  und  griech.  rhythmischen  Dichtung,"  Abhand.  Bayr. 
Akad.  Philos.-Philol.  Classe,  Bd.  XVII  (1886),  p.  369etseq. ;  Hubert 
Grimme,  Strophenbau  in  den  Gedichten  Ephraems  des  Syrers  (1893), 
p.  77  et  seq. 

2  These  two  hymns  were  Gregory's  Evening  Hymn  and  his  Hymn 
upon  Virginity.    See,  for  metrical  criticism  and  text,  W.  Meyer, 


260  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

strophe,  were  yet  to  be  created.  The  history  of 
Greek  accentual  hymns  during  the  fifth  century  is 
obscure;  but  at  its  close  they  attain  the  climax  of 
their  glory  in  the  work  of  Eomanos.  Before  his  time 
the  accentual  hymn  had  been  reaching  that  stage  where 
a  great  poet  might  bring  it  to  its  perfection,  just  as 
choral  poetry  had  by  the  time  of  Pindar  progressed  to 
the  point  where  he  received  and  perfected  it.  There 
is  a  parallel  between  the  culmination  of  the  choral 
lyric  in  Pindar  and  the  Greek  hymn  in  Eomanos  ;  as 
Pindar  composed  together  words,  metre,  and  music, 
Eoinanos  composed  music,  words,  and  the  accentual 
strophic  forms,  though  sometimes  he  made  repeated 
use  of  the  same  tunes  and  strophic  forms,  which  was 
not  Pindar's  way. 

The  structure  of  Eomanos'  hymns  rested  upon  ac- 
cent and  the  number  of  syllables.  Each  hymn  opens 
with  a  prooemion  of  from  one  to  three  strophes.  Then 
follows  the  body  of  the  hymn,  written  in  a  different 
verse,  the  first  strophe  of  which  was  called  the  hirmos. 
Every  line  in  the  hirmos  differs  from  the  others  in 
rhythm  and  the  number  of  syllables.  The  succeed- 
ing strophes,  called  troparia,  correspond  with  the  hir- 
mos line  by  line  in  accent  and  number  of  syllables. 
Thus  these  hymns  fulfilled  the  requirements  of  songs 
to  be  sung  to  a  tune,  which  extended  through  one 
strophe  and  was  repeated  in  the  next.  Every  strophe 
closes  in  the  same  words,  making  a  refrain  throughout 

op.  cit.,  pp.  313  and  400;  Bouvy,  op.  cit.,  p.  133;  Christ,  Anthol.  Gr. 
Car.  Chr.y  p.  29.  In  the  manuscripts  of  Gregory's  writings  these 
hymns  are  placed  among  his  prose  works,  a  fact  of  interest  in  con- 
nection with  the  origin  of  accentual  and  rhyming  Greek  Christian 
verse. 


ixl  GREEK  CHRISTIAN   POETRY  261 

the  hymn.  Rhyme  is  present,  but  the  verse  does  not 
depend  on  it  as  essentially  as  upon  accent  and  number 
of  syllables.     Acrostics  also  are  frequent. 

The  hymns  of  Roinanos  are  not  short,  nor  are  they 
simple  either  in  verse-structure  or  contents ;  but  they 
are  magnificent.  They  are  lyrical  and  dramatic  nar- 
ratives, long  for  lyrics,  though  short  for  narrative 
poems,  like  Pindar's  fourth  Pythian  ode  or  the  sev- 
enty-eighth Psalm.  They  carry  much  feeling,  and 
they  pray  or  exhort.  They  exhibit  tendencies  toward 
the  expression  of  theological  dogma,  wherein  they  re- 
flect the  Eastern  Church.  Also,  in  their  stateliness 
and  form  and  in  their  occasional  lack  of  diversity,  they 
exhibit  the  qualities  which  may  be  seen  in  ecclesiasti- 
cal Byzantine  art.  A  Byzantine  poet,  amid  the  pomp  of 
the  present,  and  with  the  ecclesiastical  and  dogmatic 
development  of  the  past  inbred  in  him,  could  hardly 
reproduce  the  evangelical  simplicity  of  the  Gospels. 
Romanos'  hymns  were  farther  removed  from  this 
than  the  hymns  of  the  Western  Church.  In  his  hymn 
to  the  nativity  the  baby  Christ  is  v-n-epovo-ios  (supra-es- 
sential), and  is  felt  to  be  so  throughout  the  hymn.  In 
its  refrain  he  is  7rai8ibv  ve'ov,  6  irpo  aluvw  0eos,  the  "  new- 
born child,  God  before  all  ages."  Likewise  the  Hymn  of 
the  Virgin  at  the  Cross  is  a  stately  dialogue  between  the 
Virgin  and  her  divine  Son,  in  which  he  shows  her  the 
necessity  of  his  crucifixion.  It  has  none  of  the  con- 
vulsed sorrow  of  the  Stabat  Mater.  On  the  other  hand, 
there  is  deep  emotion  in  the  hymn  upon  Judas  the 
Betrayer,  with  its  refrain  of  "IAeco?,  tAca>?,  iXewq,  yevov 
fffxiv !  The  poet's  dramatic  power  is  marked,  some  of 
his  hymns  moving  dramatically  to  a  climax. 


262  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

Roinanos  was  the  greatest  of  Greek  hymn  writers. 
Yet  he  was  not  the  author  of  perhaps  the  most  cele- 
brated hymn  of  the  Greek  Church,  the  *  \k6.6l<tto<;  of 
Sergios,  so  called  because  it  was  sung  with  the  con- 
gregation standing.  This  magnificent  and  prolonged 
chant  of  adoration  to  the  Virgin,  uttered  by  all  crea- 
tures, appears  to  have  been  written  in  625.  After  this 
time,  though  the  liturgic  poetry  of  the  Greek  Church 
made  some  formal  progress,  the  period  of  poetic 
decline  soon  set  in. 


III.    Early  Latin  Christian  Poetry 

Latin  Christian  poetry  differed  in  many  ways  from 
the  Christian  poetry  of  the  Hellenic  East.  In  the 
"West,  metre  was  abandoned  more  slowly,1  and  accent- 
ual verse  came  through  a  different  process.  The 
Greek  accentual  verse  was  not  reached  through  sub- 
stitution of  accent  for  quantity  in  the  old  metrical 
forms  of  poetry,  but  had  its  antecedents  in  Greek 
rhythmic  prose.  In  Latin  Church  poetry,  quantity 
gradually  gave  way  to  accent,  while  some  of  the 
metrical  forms  of  verse  were  retained.  Accentual 
verse,  so  derived,  tended  for  some  centuries  to  keep 
to  strophes  composed  of  lines  of  the  same  rhythm  and 

1  The  long  maintenance  of  metre  in  Christian  Latin  poetry  was 
not  unconnected  with  the  circumstance  that  Latin,  as  written,  was 
becoming  a  learned  language,  in  diminishing  correspondence  with 
the  common  speech  of  daily  life ;  poetry  written  in  it  would  not  be 
so  strongly  drawn  from  metre  to  accentual  rhythm  by  the  actuali- 
ties of  speech.  In  daily  life  men  used  the  vulgar  Latin,  which  was 
turning  into  Provencal,  French,  Spanish,  and  Italian. 


n]  EARLY  LATIN  CHRISTIAN  POETRY  263 

number  of  syllables ;  there  was  no  such  tendency  in 
Greek  accentual  verse,  derived  from  the  freer  and 
more  diversified  periods  of  rhythmic  prose. 

Besides  preserving  the  general  forms  of  certain  of 
the  old  verses,  mediaeval  Latin  poetry  developed  new 
forms  of  verse,  characterized  by  novel  and  effective 
rhymes.  The  origin  of  these  rhymes  is  not  clear. 
We  know  merely  that  assonance  turning  to  rhyme 
gradually  became  a  marked  feature  of  Latin  verse 
during  the  period  from  the  fifth  to  the  ninth  cen- 
turies, while  the  cognate  change  from  quantity  to 
accent  was  in  progress. 

In  contents,  also,  and  in  form  as  affected  by  the 
contents,  Latin  Christian  poetry  differed  from  the 
Greek.1     Beginning  with  Hilary  and  Ambrose,  there 

1  "With  the  exception  of  some  Latin  adaptations  of  early  Greek 
hymns  (e.g.,  the  Gloria  in  excelsis),  the  Greek  accentual  hymns  do 
not  appear  to  have  exerted  direct  influence  upon  the  development 
of  Latin  Christian  poetry.  It  was  otherwise  with  regard  to  the 
music  and  the  manner  of  singing  the  antiphonal  psalms  and 
anthems.  Antiphonal  psalmody  originated  in  the  church  of  Antioch 
in  the  middle  of  the  fourth  century.  The  church  of  Milan  under 
St.  Ambrose  first  adopted  it  in  the  West.  See  Paulinus,  Vita  S. 
Ambrosii,  13;  Augustine,  Con/.,  IX,  7;  Gevaert,  La  Melopee  an- 
tique dans  le  chant  de  Veglise  la.tine,  p.  82  et  seq. ;  Ebert,  op.  cit., 
I,  pp.  178,  179.  The  melodies  and  chants  of  the  liturgy,  commonly 
known  as  the  Gregorian  Chants  and  attributed  to  Gregory  the  Great 
(590-604) ,  were  chiefly  due  to  popes  of  the  seventh  and  early  part 
of  the  eighth  century  who  were  Greek  by  race  or  education  (Gevaert, 
Les  Origines  du  chant  liturgique  de  Veglise  latine  ;  ib.,  La  Me'lope'e 
antique,  etc.,  Introduction,  and  Chaps.  IV  and  V).  This  view, 
however,  is  contested;  see  Gevaert,  Introduction  to  Me'lope'e  ari- 
tique,  for  a  list  of  his  opponents  and  their  arguments.  Also,  W. 
Brambach,  Gregorianisch.  Bibliograph.  Losung  der  Streitfrage 
uber  den  Ursprung  des  gregorionischen  Gesanges.  Also  regarding 
the  influence  of  Greek  hymns  upon  Latin  sequences,  see  W.  Meyer, 


264  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

were  many  short  and  simple,  yet  doctrinally  correct, 
devotional  hymns,  unlike  any  Greek  compositions. 
Latin  poetry  has  also  lengthy  compositions  of  a  partly 
narrative  and  partly  lyric  character,  presenting  a  gen- 
eral correspondence  to  the  Greek  hymns.  But  they 
were  simpler  in  structure,  and  may  be  compared  with 
the  mediaeval  and  modern  ballad  and  elegy  of  which 
they  were  the  forerunners.  Latin  poetry  contained 
also  long  didactic  or  apologetic  or  polemic  poems,  as 
well  as  long  poetical  paraphrases  of  the  Gospel  story 
or  of  parts  of  the  Old  Testament. 

The  service  of  song  and  chant  in  Latin  churches, 
as  in  the  Greek,  originated  in  Biblical  phrases  and 
translations.  Some  of  the  early  Latin  chants,  how- 
ever, like  the  Gloria  in  excelsis,  may  have  been  taken 
from  Greek  Church  adaptations,1  and  not  directly 
from  the  Scripture.  There  also  existed  in  the  fourth 
century  translations  of  poetical  passages  from  the 
Old  Testament,  into  eleven-syllable  phalaecian  verse.2 
Aside  from  these  early  adaptations,  Latin  hymn  writ- 
ing begins  apparently  with  St.  Hilary  of  Poictiers, 
though  the  authenticity  of  the  hymns  attributed  to 
him  is  not  beyond  dispute.3    With  St.  Ambrose,  we 

"  Anfang,  etc.,  der  lat.  und  griech.  rhythmischen  Dichtung," 
Abhand.  Bayer.  Akad.  Philos.-Philol.  Classe,  Bd.  XVII  (1886), 
p.  357  et  seq. ;  Bouvy,  Poetes  et  Melodes,  pp.  376-378 ;  Christ, 
Anthol.  Gr.  Car.  Chr.,  p.  xxv;  Krumbacher,  Gesch.  byzantin.  Lit.y 
p.  682  (2d  ed.,  1897). 

1  I.e.  from  the  .V^o?  ayyeAi*ds  of  the  Greek  liturgy. 

2  E.g.,  of  Ex.  xv.,  Num.  xxi.,  Deut.  xxxiii.,  to  be  found  in  Pitra's 
Spicilegium  Solesruensl,  I,  pp.  187,  243,  253. 

8  Cf.  U.  Chevalier,  Poe'sie  Liturgique,  pp.  56-66;  Ebert,  Ges.t 
etc.,  Vol.  I  (2d  ed.),  pp.  142  note,  and  172-173;  St.  Hilary  of  Poic- 
tiers, in  the  Library  of  Nicene  Fathers,  2d  series,  Vol.  IX,  Intro- 


J 


ixj  EARLY  LATIN  CHRISTIAN   POETRY  265 

are  on  firmer  ground,  as  he  wrote  at  least  four  of  the 
hymns  attributed  to  him.1 

These  noble  and  dogmatically  careful  hymns  have 
an  antique  clarity  of  phrase;  they  probably  reflect 
the  exigencies  under  which  they  were  composed,  to 
hearten  the  souls  of  the  orthodox  and  keep  them  in 
the  true  faith,  under  the  perils  of  Arian  conflicts. 
They  were  written  to  be  sung  by  the  congregation, 
and  have  continued  in  liturgical  use.  The  metre  is 
iambic  dimeter,  one  of  the  simplest  of  the  antique, 
and  is  correct  throughout.2  Each  hymn  consists  of 
thirty-two  lines  divided  into  four-line  strophes. 

Between  the  time  of  Ambrose  and  the  tenth  cen- 
tury, compositions  in  this  most  widely  used  hymn- 
form  gradually  changed  from  quantity  to  accent,  and 

became  rhymed.     They  afford  a  complete  illustration 

t 
duction,  pp.  xlvi  et  seq.  The  hymns  contained  in  the  manuscript 
discovered  by  Gamurrini  at  Arezzo  in  1884  (S.  H'darii  Tractatus  de 
Mijsteriis  et  Hymni,  Rome,  1887),  which  some  think  to  have  been 
written  by  Hilary,  were  doctrinally  correct  and  polemically  pointed 
against  the  Arians.  They  are  not  metrical  (see  Ge'vaert,  La  Me'Iope'e 
antique,  etc.,  p.  64),  and  may  be  compared  with  Augustine's  hymn, 
Contra  Donatistos.  This  was  alphabetical  (as  was  the  hymn 
attributed  with  greatest  probability  to  Hilary)  like  an  alphabetical 
psalm.  It  was  written  for  the  people,  and  is  accentual  and  not  in 
metre,  each  line  ending  in  e  and  each  strophe  opening  with  the 
same  refrain.  Text  in  Du  Meril,  Poe'sies  Populaires  Latines,  I, 
p.  120.  Neither  this  hymn,  nor  the  one  attributed  to  Hilary,  has 
poetic  merits. 

1  To  wit:  Veni  redemptor  gentium,  Aeterne  rerum  conditor, 
Jam  surgit  hora  tertia,  and  Deus  Creator  omnium. 

2  As  these  ancient  Latin  hymns  followed  classic  metre,  they  also 
adopted  the  current  melodies  of  Greek  and  Roman  lyric  song, 
and  gradually  modified  or  transformed  them.  On  this  subject, 
see  Gevaert,  Les  Origines,  etc.,  pp.  23-33,  and  ib.,  La  Me'Iope'e 
antique. 


266 


THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE 


[chap. 


of  the  change  from  quantity  to  accent  within  the 
same  form  of  verse.  The  hymns  of  Ambrose  rest 
altogether  upon  quantity  and  ignore  the  accent,  which 
frequently  falls  on  short  syllables,  and  is  in  apparent 
conflict  with  the  stress  and  movement  of  the  verse. 
The  next  step  is  the  retention  of  quantity  combined 
with  an  attempt  to  observe  the  accent;  i.e.  to  make 
the  syllables  which  are  long  by  nature  or  position 
coincide  with  the  tonic  accent  of  the  words.1  This 
stage  is  reached  by  the  alphabetic  hymn  to  Christ  of 
Sedulius  (circ.  450),  in  which,  moreover,  rhyme  has 
become  an  element  of  the  verse.2  It  is  also  noticeable 
that  as  this  iambic  dimeter  changes  to  accent  and 
acquires  rhyme,  the  poems  written  in  it  contain  more 
Christian  emotion;  with  the  disintegration  of  metre 
the  emotional  expression  of  the  dawning  Middle  Ages 
is  loosed.  As  an  illustration  of  this,  the  Dens  Creator 
omnium  of  Ambrose  may  be  compared  with  a  some- 
what later  hymn  showing  the  beginnings  of  rhyme, 
and  irregularities  of  metre  through  the  encroachment 
of  accent  upon  quantity. 

Deus  creator  omnium 
Polique  rector,  vestiens 
Diem  decoro  lumine, 
Noctem  soporis  gratia,  — 

1  A  tendency  in  this  direction  appears  in  the  hexameters  of  two 
fifth-century  pagan  poets,  the  one  writing  in  Greek,  the  other  in 
Latin,  Nonnos  and  Claudian.  See  Bouvy,  Poetes  et  Melodes, 
pp.  144-149. 

2  Printed  in  Clement,  Carmina,  etc.,  p.  175,  and  in  Du  Meril, 
Potsies  Populaires,  and  in  Humer's  edition  of  Sedulius.  It  is  com- 
posed of  twenty-three  four-line  verses,  beginning  with  the  suc- 
cessive letters  of  the  alphabet,  and  telling  the  important  facts  of 
the  Saviour's  life. 


n]  EARLY  LATIN   CHRISTIAN   POETRY  267 

reverentially  and  with  ordered  thoughts,  the  hymn 
apostrophizes  God  the  Creator  and  Ordainer.  The 
fourth  strophe  delineates  the  religious  attitude  of  the 
soul  toward  Him. 

Te  cordis  ima  concinant, 
Te  vox  caiiora  concrepet, 
Te  diligat  castus  amor, 
Te  mens  adoret  sobria. 

The  tone  of  this  adoring  strophe  is  given  by  the  words 
castus  and  sobria  —  let  castus  amor  wait  on  thee,  mens 
sobria  adore  thee.  It  is  stately  and  contained,  antique 
in  mode  of  expression. 

The  other  hymn,  In  Ascensione  Domini,  has  been 
improperly  ascribed  to  Ambrose,  yet  is  prior  to  the 
seventh  century.     It  is  more  emotionally  loving :  — 

Jesu,  nostra  redemptio, 
Amor  et  desiderium  ; 

how  different  in  tone  from  the 

Te  diligat  castus  amor, 
Te  mens  adoret  sobria. 

And  the  last  strophe  shows  the  coming  of  rhyme  and 
its  effect  upon  the  tone :  — 

Tu  esto  nostrum  gaudium 
Qui  es  futuris  praemiumf 
Sit  nostra  in  te  gloria 
Per  cuncta  semper  saecula.1 

In  the  full  Middle  Ages,  as  with  Adam  of  St.  Vic- 
tor, the  accentual  and  rhymed  iambic  dimeter  is  found 
undergoing  modifications  which  add  to  the  emotional 

1  This  hymn  is  in  Clement,  Carmina  e  poetis  Christianis,  p.  65. 


268  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

quality  or  enable  the  poet  to  perfect  the  unison  of 
sentiment  and  verse.1  Thus  a  number  of  wonderful 
verse-forms  and  rhymes  came  into  being,  fitted  to 
express  the  emotion  which  through  the  centuries  had 
been  gathering  in  Christian  souls.  A  voice  had  thus 
been  found  for  the  feelings  roused  by  the  Gospel  story, 
including  those  which  might  be  attributed  to  Gospel 
personages,  as  in  the  Stabat  Mater,  through  which 
wells  the  grief  of  the  Virgin  at  the  Cross.  Similarly 
Christian  hymns  may  tell  the  story  of  martyrs  lyri- 
cally, and  utter  the  feeling  excited  by  their  saintly 
heroism  and  blessed  lot.2 

We  pass  to  the  Latin  poems  which  combine  lyric 
with  narrative  or  dramatic  elements.  The  lyric  ele- 
ment consists  either  in  devotional  feeling  toward 
Christ  or  some  martyred  saint  having  power  to  aid, 
or  in  saddened  loving  sentiments  touching  the  subject 
of  the  poem,  living  or  dead.  In  the  former  case  the 
poem  is  of  the  nature  of  a  hymn,  in  the  latter  of  the 

1  E.g.,  in  the  Heri  raundus  exultavit,  and  other  hymns  in  like 
metre. 

2  In  these  references  to  the  change  from  metrical  to  accentual 
verse  it  is  not  intended  to  imply  that  the  disintegration  of  metre 
was  due  to  Christianity;  for  it  was  primarily  due  to  the  falling 
away  of  quantity  from  the  Greek  and  Latin  tongues, — and  Latin 
may  have  always  had  its  popular  accentual  verses.  The  Christian 
genius,  seeking  to  express  itself  in  poetry  in  the  centuries  when 
quantity  was  no  longer  observed  in  speaking,  gradually  availed 
itself  of  accent,  which  as  the  basis  of  actual  speech  was  now  the 
natural  basis  for  living  verse  ;  and,  in  fact,  forms  of  accentual  verse 
were  evolved  suited  to  the  expression  of  Christian  feeling.  It  is  the 
writer's  opinion  that  Christian  feeling  could  not  have  been  as 
adequately  expressed  in  classic  metres,  which  had  been  evolved  in 
correspondence  with  the  expression  of  quite  different  kinds  of 
feeling. 


ix]  EARLY  LATIN  CHRISTIAN   POETRY  269 

nature  of  an  elegy.  The  characters  sometimes  speak 
in  the  first  person  —  dramatically.  The  narratives 
are  not  given  such  breadth  and  extent  as  to  bring 
them  into  the  category  of  epic  poetry. 

The  greatest  Christian  poet  of  the  fourth  and  fifth 
centuries  was  the  Spaniard  Prudentius,  who  was  born 
in  348  and  died  sometime  after  405.  He  and  his 
amiable  contemporary,  Paulinus  of  Nola,  unite  classic 
culture  with  Christian  sentiment.  The  resulting  prod- 
uct is  interesting,  often  charming,  sometimes  admira- 
ble. Rarely  does  either  poet  attain  to  great  poetry 
or  express  feeling  deeply  and  truly  interpretative  of 
Christ.  Yet  the  feeling  is  as  genuine  as  could  exist 
under  the  limitations  of  classical  verse-forms  and  a 
rhetorical  literary  epoch.  Prudentius'  hymns  were 
literary,  rather  than  adapted  for  worship,  and  none  of 
them  in  its  entirety  was  used  as  a  church  song. 

The  Liber  Cathemerinon  of  Prudentius  consisted  of 
twelve  hymns  ranging  in  length  from  eighty  to  two 
hundred  and  twenty  lines.  The  first  six  were  written 
for  the  six  daily  hours  of  prayer.  They  contain  much 
symbolism.1  The  facts  are  chosen  with  regard  to  their 
symbolical  import,  and  are  told  briefly,  symbolically  as 
it  were.2  In  the  ninth  hymn,  Hymnus  omnis  home, 
the  deeds  and  incidents  of  Christ's  life  are  told  suc- 
cinctly, or  apostrophized  somewhat  as  Jehovah's  deliv- 
erances of  Israel  are  narrated  in  the  seventy-eighth 
Psalm.     The  twelfth  hymn,  for  the  feast  of  the  Epiph- 

1  Thus  in  Hymn  I,  Ad  galli  cantum,  the  cock  is  a  symbol  of 
Christ,  as  the  dawn  is  in  Hymn  II. 

a  One  might  make  comparison  with  the  conventionalized  sym- 
bolical manner  of  catacomb  paintings,  as,  e.g.,  Noah  in  the  ark. 


270  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

any,  tells  of  the  Star  and  the  Magi,  and  then  gives  a 
moving  and  dramatic  story  of  Herod's  fear  and  the 
Slaughter  of  the  Innocents. 

The  hymns  of  the  CatJiemerinon  are  skilfully  writ- 
ten. Sometimes  they  express  sweet  Christian  feeling, 
and  very  beautifully.1  Their  metres  seem  well  adapted 
to  the  contents.  Iambic  dimeter  is  most  frequently 
used ;  also  the  trochaic  tetrameter  with  good  effect. 
These  are  the  two  simplest  of  classical  metres;  and 
the  other  metres  used  are  also  simple.  But  the 
poet's  fine  sense  of  metrical  fitness  is  best  shown 
in  the  Peristephanon,  his  hymn-book  of  martyr- 
legends.  Some  of  these  legends  still  existed  in  popu- 
lar story,  and  some  had  been  written  in  literary  or 
rhetorical  form.  Likewise  some  of  the  hymns  of  the 
Peristephanon  are  popular,  while  others  are  not.  The 
metres  are  suited  to  the  character  of  the  narrative. 
For  example,  the  fourth  hymn  is  a  rhetorical  pane- 
gyric on  the  martyrs  of  Saragossa,  and  is  in  sapphic 
strophes.  Hymns  IX  and  XI  also  are  elevated  and 
literary,  and  the  poet  uses  in  the  one  a  couplet  made 
of  a  hexameter  and  iambic  tetrameter,  and  in  the 
other  the  elegiac  metre.  The  hymns  of  a  popular 
character  are  of  great  interest.  They  are  composed 
in  the  trochaic  tetrameter2  and  the  iambic  dimeter.3 
Their  contents  were  derived  from  the  stories  of  the 
martyrs  as  told  or  sung  on  their  festival  days.  They 
are  beautiful  illustrations  of  the  finish  of  poetry  set 
upon  legend.  First  a  martyrdom  occurs.  Then  the 
legend  rises,  grows,  and  sometimes  undergoes  altera- 

i  See,  e.g.,  Hymn  V,  149-161;  X,  117-149;  XII,  125-133. 
2  Hymn  I.  8  Hymns  II  and  V. 


ix]  EARLY  LATIN  CHRISTIAN  POETRY  271 

tion  of  names,  places,  and  incidents.  At  last  a  poet 
makes  a  poem  from  the  matter.  Prudentius,  imagi- 
native poetry  fashions  and  universalizes  events ;  what- 
ever is  unsuited  to  the  type  of  man  or  occurrence  is 
changed,  and  the  narrative  gains  typical  significance. 
For  example,  Hymn  V  tells  the  martyrdom  of  St. Vincent 
of  Saragossa.  The  praetor,  in  order  to  persuade  Vincent 
to  abjure  his  faith,  addresses  him  in  words  which  give 
the  poet's  idea  of  what  a  Roman  officer  under  such  cir- 
cumstances would  say  to  a  martyr.  All  halting  details 
are  omitted  and  the  matter  is  universalized.  Vin- 
cent's answering  theological  defiance  is  treated  in  the 
same  way;  it  is  given  just  as  —  to  the  poet's  imagina- 
tion—  it  must  have  been  uttered.  The  poet  may  also 
sum  up  much  fact  and  feeling  in  a  line  :  spes  certat  et 
crudelitas.  This  was  true,  and,  like  the  whole  poem, 
conforms  to  the  artistic  verity  of  the  Christian  imagi- 
nation fashioning  its  heroic  past.  In  the  prison  cell 
the  martyr  knows  that  Christ  and  his  angels  are  with 
him ;  and  they  cheer  him  ;  which  is  true  also,  univer- 
sally and  necessarily,  like  the  rest  of  the  poem.  The 
tortures  are  told  in  full.  The  poem,  in  fine,  is  a 
typical  picture  of  a  martyrdom.1 

The  easy  swing,  the  popular,  spirited,  and  dramatic 
character  of  such  a  poem  suggests  the  ballad  form ; 
and  indeed  the  hymn  to  Vincent,  like  that  to  St. 
Laurence,  is  a  precursor  of  the  ballad,  the  spirited, 
popular  narrative  poem,  which  tells  an  occurrence  with 
vivid  detail,  but  not  with  the  breadth  and  copiousness 
and  dignity  which  make  an  epic.     The  ballad  metre 

1  The  last  (XIY)  hymn  of  the  Peristephanon,  in  honor  of  St. 
Agnes,  is  another  beautiful  example  of  poetical  recasting  of  legend. 


272  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

or  verse  is  quick  and  spirited,  as  the  epic  metre  is 
dignified  and  noble.  The  iambic  dimeter  of  the  hymns 
to  Laurence  and  Vincent  is  not  unlike  the  verse  form 
of  English  ballads.  The  hymns  of  the  Peristephanon 
carry  the  feeling  of  the  occurrence,  and  sometimes 
seem  to  herald  the  emotional  fulness  of  late  mediaeval 
verse :  — 

0  virgo  felix,  0  nova  gloria, 

Coelestis  arcis  nobilis  incola  — 

these  lines  truly  sum  up  the  feeling  of  the  hymn  to 
St.  Agnes.  One  notices  that  they  rhyme,  and  that 
the  rhyme  adds  to  the  surge  of  feeling. 

St.  Paulinus  ZSTolanus  was  born  at  Bordeaux  in  353, 
and  died  in  431,  at  Nola  in  Campania,  where  he  had 
taken  up  his  abode  through  devotion  to  the  blessed 
Felix,  martyr  and  patron  saint.  He  was  an  affection- 
ate and  gentle  person.  Xobly  born,  rich,  and  wedded 
to  a  noble  wife,  he  gave  up  the  world  and  turned  to  a 
life  of  gentle  Christian  asceticism.  His  wife  remained 
his  companion ;  and  a  sweet  affection  lasted  to  the  end 
between  this  husband  and  wife,  who  had  become  brother 
and  sister  in  Christ.  Many  of  his  letters  are  in  their 
joint  names  :  Paulinus  et  TJierasia  peccatores. 

Paulinus  had  a  heart  lovingly  turned  toward  Christ 
and  his  saints.  But  he  was  the  pupil  of  the  clever 
rhetorician  and  litterateur,  Ausonius,  whose  nominal 
Christianity  did  not  affect  his  pagan  tastes.  The 
pupil  lacked  originality  to  strike  out  new  literary 
paths.  The  form  of  his  poems  is  given  by  his  educa- 
tion, and  appears  to  limit  their  emotional  contents. 
In  a  poetic  epistle  to  Ausonius  he  turns  a  grateful 
compliment  to   his  former  teacher,  which  contained 


ix]  EARLY  LATIN  CHRISTIAN  POETRY  273 

more  truth  than  Paulinus  suspected.  He  is  speaking 
of  his  conversion  to  the  religious  life,  and  says :  — 

Mens  nova  mi,fateor,  mens  non  mea,  non  mea  quondam, 

Sed  mea  nunc  auctore  deo,  qui  si  quid  in  actu 

Ingeniove  meo  sua  dignum  ad  munera  vidit, 

Gratia  prima  tibi,  tibi  gloria  debita  cedit, 

Cuius  praeceptis partura  est  quod  Christus  amaret.1 

—  "A  new  mind  is  put  in  me  from  God;  if  He  sees  any- 
thing in  me  worthy  of  His  rewards,  the  thanks  and 
glory  is  thine  (Ausonius),  from  whose  precepts  has 
sprung  whatever  Christ  would  love."  It  was  true 
that  a  new  spirit  had  come  to  Paulinus  with  his  con- 
version ;  it  was  also  true  that  his  poetic  skill  was 
rooted  and  nourished  in  his  pagan  culture,  received 
from  his  master,  Ausonius ;  and  that  his  poetic  talent 
could  never  break  away  from  his  early  lessons.  Yet, 
so  far  as  his  manner  of  speech  and  forms  of  verse 
permit,  he  feels  as  a  Christian. 

Two  poems  of  Paulinus  in  elegaic  metre  are  of 
special  interest.  One  is  a  most  Christian  epithala- 
mion,  in  which  purity  is  praised  almost  in  monastic 
tone,  and  all  lust  and  folly  exorcised :  — 

Concordes  animae  casto  sociantur  amore, 

Virgo  puer  Christi,  virgo  puella  dei, 
Christe  deus,  pariles  due  ad  tuafrena  columbas 

Et  moderare  levi  subdita  colla  jugo. 
Kamque  tnum  Ipve.  Christe,  jugum  est,  quod prompta  voluntas 

Suscipit  et  facili  fert  amor  obsequio.2 

These  are  sentiments  of  Christian  purity  and  obedi- 
ence, virtues  which,  with  patience  and  humility,  were 
to  characterize  Christian  souls.     The  poem  proceeds, 
i  Carmen  X,  142-146.  *  Carmen  XXV,  1-6. 


274  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

setting  a  rein  to  the  young  people's  lust  of  the  vain- 
glory and  pleasure  of  this  world,  and  turning  their 
minds  toward  eternal  joys.  In  tone  and  contents  it 
is  the  opposite  of  pagan  epithalamia.  It  may  be 
compared  with  a  sweet  elegiac  poem  from  husband  to 
wife,  attributed  to  Tyro  Prosper,1  a  poem  of  Christian 
trust  and  marital  consolation,  written  amid  the  terror 
and  ruin  of  the  invasions.  Tyro's  poem  closes  with 
these  affectionate  lines :  — 

Tu  modo,  fida  comes,  mecum  isti  accingere  pugnae, 

Quam  Deus  infirmo  praebuit  auxilium. 
Sollicita  datum  cohibe,  solare  dolentem  ; 

Exemplum  vitae  simus  uterque  piae. 
Custos  esto  tui  custodis,  mutna  redde 

Frige  labentem,  surge  levantis  ope  ; 
Vt  caro  non  eadem  tantum,  sed  mens  quoque  nobis 

Una  sit,  atque  duos  spiritus  unus  alat. 

Thus  husband  and  wife,  with  faces  set  toward  Christ 
and  eternity,  comfort  and  encourage  each  other  on 
the  way.  This  noble  view  of  marriage  had  scant 
opportunity  to  develop  in  communities  where  monas- 
ticism  was  becoming  the  ideal  of  Christian  life. 

Like  these  elegiac  marriage  poems,  Paulinus' 
elegy  upon  the  death  of  a  boy 2  is  distinctly  Christian. 
It  suggests  abnegation  of  temporalities,  and  shows 
the  mind  set  upon  eternity.  In  spirit  he  passes  with 
the  boy's  departing  soul  to  heaven,  and  there  takes 
joy  in  seeing  the  newcomer  join  company  with  the 
soul  of  his  own  son,  who  had  died  before :  — 

Vivite  participes,  aeternum  vivite,  fratres, 
Et  laetos  dignum  par  habitate  locos. 

1  Clement,  Cai-m.,  etc.,  pp.  67-71.  2  Carmen  XXXI. 


n]  EARLY  LATIN  CHRISTIAN   POETRY  275 

These  poems  are  perhaps  the  first  true  elegies  which 
are  Christian  in  point  of  view,  in  sentiment,  and  in 
feeling.  Devotion  and  lovingness  also  constitute  the 
most  distinctive  Christian  elements  in  Paulinus'  Nata- 
litia,  his  lengthy  series  of  poems  written  on  the  festal 
days  —  the  birthdays  to  eternity  —  of  the  martyr-saint, 
Felix.  They  are  poems  of  a  panegyrical  character, 
mostly  written  in  hexameters.  We  see  in  them  how 
the  popular  worship  of  the  saints  had  supplanted  the 
cult  of  local  pagan  deities  in  Italy  and  other  lands 
which  were  becoming  Christian.  The  departed  saints 
are  potent  through  their  relics,  as  local  deities  had 
been  potent  at  their  shrines.  The  span  of  life  being 
short,  the  omnipotens  dominus  continues  the  healing 
powers  of  the  saints  in  their  remains.1  These  are  effi- 
cient in  the  place  of  their  interment,  or  wherever  they 
may  be  moved.  The  period  of  translationes  (removals) 
is  at  hand,  Constantine  being  the  great  inaugurator  of 
the  custom,  seeking  to  strengthen  his  new  Constanti- 
nople with  the  mighty  relics  of  Christian  heroes. 

In  such  superstitions  there  was  little  that  was  dis- 
tinctively Christian.  Paulinus'  Christian  feeling  lay 
in  his  humility  and  his  love  for  the  martyr-saint,  such 
as  no  keeper  of  a  pagan  shrine  had  felt.  He  feels  his 
unworthiness  to  serve  Felix  —  but  let  this  be  punish- 
ment enough,  the  many  years  lived  without  thee  :  — 

.  .  .  tot  iam  quod  te  sine  viximus  annis, 

Sede  tua procul  lieu  I  quamvis  von  mente  remoti.2 

1  Continuans  medicos  operosi  martyris  actus,  Carmen  XVIII, 
290.  This  poem  bears  interesting  witness  to  the  early  worship  of 
saints  and  their  relics. 

2  Carmen  XII,  16,  17. 


276  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

Now  I  have  brought  my  life  to  anchor  at  thy  shore :  — 

Hoc  bene  subductam  religavi  litore  classem, 
In  te  compositae  mihifixa  sit  anchora  vitae.1 

The  didactic  or  polemic  Latin  poems  remain  to  be 
noticed,  and  then  the  narrative.  The  two  classes  are 
not  to  be  sharply  set  over  against  each  other;  for 
polemic  and  didactic  poetry  usually  contained  much 
narrative,  and  the  narrative  poetry  frequently  had  a 
didactic  or  polemic  purpose.  Hexameter  is  the  usual 
metre,  and  many  of  these  poems  have  no  other  title  to 
the  name  of  poetry. 

The  last  remark  applies  to  the  work  of  the  earliest 
Latin  Christian  poet,  Commodianus  of  Gaza,  Syria, 
who  wrote  in  the  middle  of  the  third  century.  He 
was  the  author  of  a  book  of  Instructiones,  consisting 
of  eighty  acrostics  in  unmetrical  hexameters.  The 
first  part  of  the  work  is  a  polemic  apology  for  Chris- 
tianity, directed  against  the  pagans ;  the  second  part 
contains  ethical  admonitions  for  the  use  of  the  various 
classes  of  Christians.  The  poet's  Carmen  apologeti- 
cum  forms  a  sequel,  in  which  he  instructs  as  to  the 
Trinity,  attacks  secular  studies,  also  the  Jews,  and 
devotes  much  space  to  Antichrist2  and  the  Last 
Times.  He  appears  to  have  intentionally  ignored 
quantity  in  his  hexameters.  The  last  acrostic  in 
the  Instructiones,  read  from  below  upward,  is  Com- 
modianus mendicus  Christi  ;  and  it  would  seem  as  if 
one  intending  to  be  "poor  in  spirit"  wrote,  with  a 
depreciation  of  classical  culture,  in  order  to  impress 

i  Carmen  XIII,  35. 

2  The  first  appearance  of  Antichrist  in  Latin  Christian  literature. 


ix]  EARLY   LATIN   CHRISTIAN   POETRY  277 

the  people.  He  observes  the  caesura  after  the  second 
foot ;  and  the  two  final  feet  of  the  hexameters  are 
usually  correct  in  quantity.  The  substance  is  dull 
and  unpoetical. 

Prudentius,  whose  ballad-hymns  have  been  noticed, 
also  wrote  theological  and  controversial  poems.  The 
first  of  these  is  his  Apotheosis,  a  work  in  1084  hexame- 
ters, directed  against  heresies,  and  especially  against 
those  impugning  the  divinity  of  Christ.  Though  it 
has  spirited  passages,1  it  is  but  a  fiery  rhetorical 
polemic  set  in  metre.  The  same  in  general  may  be 
said  of  the  poet's  Hamartigenia,  a  poem  on  the  source 
of  evil,  fiercely  polemic  in  character  and  directed 
against  the  dualistic  heresy  of  Marcion.  Lucretius' 
De  Rerum  Natura  is  poetry,  where  it  is  poetry,  through 
the  intensity  of  its  feeling.  The  mind  of  a  Christian 
poet  might  dwell  on  heresies  and  the  ills  springing 
from  them,  until  his  thoughts  fused  to  images  and 
visions  embodying  these  evil  results.  This  may  be 
poetry,  and  thus  it  is  with  passages  in  the  Hamartige- 
nia. In  a  prologue  of  iambic  trimeters  the  poet  likens 
Marcion  to  Cain,  and  then  begins  his  hexameters :  — 

Quo  te  praecipitat  rabies  tua,  perfide  Cain? 
Divisor  blaspheme  Dei ! 

No !  there  is  no  second  God,  author  of  the  Old  Testa- 
ment, as  Marcion  falsely  says;  we  know  the  author 
of  evil,  —  no  God,  but  the  slave  of  hell ;  he  is  the  Mar- 
cionita  deus,  ti'istis,  ferus,  insidiator.  There  follows  the 
first  great  picture  of  the  devil  in  Latin  poetry.  His 
anguiferum  caput  and  hairy  shoulders  covered  with 

1  E.g.,  lines  321-551  against  the  Jews. 


278  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

snakes  seem  reminiscent  of  the  Erynyes;  but  his 
character  is  his  own  —  devilish:  — 

Liventes  oculos  suffundit  fell e  per usto 
i  Invidia  impatiens  justorum  gaudiaferre. 

Satan  surrounds  the  soul  with  his  evil  ministers,  to 
wit,  sins,  which  beset  it  as  the  seven  tribes  of  Canaan- 
ites  beset  the  children  of  Israel :  — 

Serit  ille  medullitus  omnes 
Nequitias,  spargitque  suos  per  membra  ministros. 
Namque  illic  numerosa  cohors  sub  principe  tali 
Militat,  horrendisque  animas  circumsidet  armis, 
Ira,  superstitio,  moeror,  discordia,  luxus, 
Sanguinis  atra  sitis,  vini  sitis,  et  sitis  auri, 
Livor,  adulterium,  dolus,  obtrectatio,  furtum. 
Informes  horrent  fades  habituque  minaces.1 

Here  is  the  idea  which  the  poet  works  out  allegori- 
cally  in  his  famous  Psychomachia.  That  was  a  didactic 
allegory.  The  preface  of  iambic  trimeters  tells  of 
Abraham  with  his  three  hundred  and  eighteen  fol- 
lowers conquering  the  heathen  kings;  which  means, 
allegorically  interpreted,  Faith  aided  by  Christ  con- 
quering the  representative  sins  of  paganism.  In 
the  main  poem,  written  in  hexameters,  the  Christ- 
given  virtues  of  the  soul  fight  against  the  vices  which 
threaten  from  out  the  soul  itself  and  its  proneness  to 
temptation.  The  conflict  is  set  forth  allegorically  as 
a  succession  of  combats  between  champions.  First, 
Fides  conquers  Idolatria;  then  Pudicitia  conquers 
Libido  and  Patientia  conquers  Ira.  Then  Mens  Humi- 
lis,  together  with  Spes,  and  aided  by  Justitia,  Hones- 

i  Apotheosis,  11.  392-399. 


n]  EARLY  LATIN  CHRISTIAN  POETRY  279 

tas,  Sobrietas,  Jejunia,  and  Pudor,  conquer  the  arch 
enemy  Superbia.  After  this,  Sobrietas  overcomes 
Luxuria,  among  whose  followers  is  Fugitivus  Amor ; 
and  Operatio  (charity)  overthrows  Avaritia.  Concordia 
is  now  treacherously  wounded  by  Discordia,  surnamed 
Haeresis,  whereupon  Fides  transfixes  the  latter.  The 
victory  won,  Fides  urges  that  a  temple  be  built  to 
Christ,  in  describing  which  the  poet  follows  the  twenty- 
first  chapter  of  Revelation. 

In  form  and  structure  Prudentius'  Psychomachia 
seems  to  have  been  original ;  it  was  the  first  Western 
example  of  a  purely  allegorical  poem.1  The  universal 
allegorizing  spirit  of  the  poet's  time,  and  of  the  Chris- 
tian centuries  before  him,  led  to  it,  and  the  continuing 
allegorizing  spirit  of  the  Middle  Ages  created  many 
poems  which  drew  substance  or  suggestion  from  it. 

Prudentius  may  have  drawn  his  personifications  of 
the  virtues  from  the  works  of  the  Fathers,  especially 
Tertullian.  The  taste  for  allegory  had  also  entered 
later  pagan  Latin  literature.  Terror  and  Fear  in 
Apuleius  are  the  servants  of  Minerva,  and  the  story  of 

1  The  partly  allegorical  poem  De  Phoenice,  attributed  to  Lactan- 
tius,  is  earlier  than  the  Psychomachia.  Cf.  Ebert,  Ges.,  I,  97-101. 
The  Phoenix,  so  important  a  symbol  of  immortality  and  resurrection 
in  Christian  art,  illustrates  the  passing  of  an  idea  from  paganism 
to  Christianity.  It  is  referred  to  in  Ovid,  Metam.,  XV,  402,  and 
Martial,  Epig.,  V,  7.  The  transition  to  Christian  use  appears  in 
the  poem  De  Phoenice,  which  is  not  distinctly  Christian  and  retains 
the  pagan  tradition.  Tertullian  and  Commodian  refer  to  the 
Phoenix.  There  is  an  Anglo-Saxon  poem  founded  on  that  of 
Lactantius;  see  Ebert,  Ges.,  Ill,  73-75.  The  legend  of  the  Phoenix 
is  told  in  the  Roman  de  la  Rose,  16,911  et  seq.  On  the  symbolism 
of  the  Phoenix  in  Christian  art,  see  Evans,  Animal  Symbolism  in 
Ecclesiastical  Architecture,  p.  68,  etc.;  128,  etc. 


280  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

Psyche  and  Amor  is  an  allegory,  in  the  course  of  which 
appear  many  personifications,  Sobrietas,  Consuetudo, 
Sollicitudo,  Tristities.  The  works  of  Prudentius'  con- 
temporary, Claudian,  also  contain  many  personifications. 

The  narrative  poems,  now  to  be  noticed,  consist  of 
translations,  transformations,  or  creations,  from  Old 
Testament  or  Gospel  narrative.  They  form  a  class  of 
poems  of  great  magnitude,  number,  and  variety ;  they 
do  not  stop  with  Latin,  but  branch  out  into  the  vernacu- 
lar literatures  of  mediaeval  and  modern  Europe.  If  none 
of  these  poems  reproduces  the  feeling  and  spirit  of  Bibli- 
cal narrative,  some  of  them  have  merits  of  their  own. 

The  series  begins  with  the  Historia  Evanrjelica  of 
the  Spanish  priest  Juvencus,  written  about  the  year 
330.  It  is  a  close  presentation  of  the  Gospel  story  in 
four  books  of  hexameters  redolent  of  Virgil.  The 
writer  speaks  in  his  prologue  of  the  enduring  fame  of 
Homer  and  Virgil,  who  wove  falsehoods  ;  and  he  deems 
that  the  truth  which  he  narrates  shall  bring  him  an 
eternal  meed  of  fame.  This  is  not  a  Christian  thought. 
Juvencus  tells  the  Gospel  story  with  smooth  medioc- 
rity, quite  unconscious  of  how  his  measures  fail  to 
reflect  the  spirit  and  feeling  of  the  Gospel.  To  turn 
that  story  into  hexameters  meant  a  continual  change 
of  stress,  with  loss  of  point  and  emphasis.  For  exam- 
ple, Juvencus  renders  Christ's  answer  to  the  scribe, 
who  said  he  would  follow  him  :  — 

Olli  Christus  ait;  quo  me  tu,  scriba,  sequerisf 
Vulpibus  in  saltu  rupes  excisa  latebras 
Praebet,  et  aeriis  avibus  dat  silva  quietem  ; 
Ast  hominis  nato  nullis  succedere  tectis 
Est  licit  urn.1 

iHut.Ev.tU,l±-l%. 


ix]  EARLY  LATIN   CHRISTIAN   POETRY  281 

The  flatness  of  this  passage  is  partly  due  to  its  medi- 
ocrity, and  partly  is  enforced  by  the  metre.  The  poet 
fails  to  give  the  feeling  of  the  Gospel.  A  poem  which 
regularly  speaks  of  God  as  " summits  tonans"  would 
naturally  have  a  Roman  and  Virgilian  tone.  The  story 
of  Christ  stilling  the  tempest  closes  thus :  — 

Inde  procellis 
Imperat  et  placidam  stemit  super  aequora  pacem.1 

The  last  is  a  good  line,  but  the  feeling  and  reminis- 
cence are  Virgilian. 

Mention  may  be  made  of  the  Alethia,  or  three  books 
of  Commentaries  on  Genesis,  written  by  Claudius 
Marius  Victor,  near  the  middle  of  the  fifth  century. 
They  are  an  expository  rendering  in  hexameters  of 
the  Biblical  story,  with  many  didactic  digressions. 
Of  greater  interest  and  far  wider  influence  was  the 
Paschale  Carmen  of  Sedulius,  composed  at  this  time. 
It  comprised  somewhat  less  than  two  thousand  hex- 
ameters and  was  divided  into  five  books.  The  name 
would  indicate  some  underlying  thought  on  the  part 
of  the  poet,  giving  a  unity  to  his  work.  It  was  a 
poem  of  Christ  our  Passover,  offered  for  men.  The 
first  book  sings  the  miraculous  deliverances  in  the 
Old  Testament.  The  second  book  tells  the  birth  and 
childhood  of  Christ,  and  the  three  remaining  books 
sing  the  story  of  the  saving  "  miracula  Christi"  until 
the  final  paschal  sacrifice  and  redemption,  consisting 
of  Christ's  death,  resurrection,  manifestation  of  Him- 
self, and  His  ascension.  Sedulius'  poem  continued 
to   be  widely  read  from  his  own  century  on  to  the 

i  Hist.  Ev.}  II,  38;  cf.  JEneid,  I,  2i9. 


282  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

time  of  Charlemagne,  as  well  as  in  the  later  Middle 
Ages. 

The  closing  years  of  the  fifth  century  saw  the  pro- 
duction of  the  thoughtful  and  interesting  poem  of 
Dracontius,  entitled  De  Deo.  Its  subject  is  God's 
mercy  (pietas)  which  led  Him  to  create  and  then  re- 
deem mankind,  and  which  leads  Him  always  to  direct 
human  affairs  for  good,  despite  the  wickedness  of  men. 
The  poem  served  as  an  argumentative  consolation  to 
the  author,  cast  into  prison  by  the  Vandal  King  Gun- 
thamund.  The  first  book  celebrates  God's  mercy  as 
revealed  in  the  creation  of  the  world.  It  is  a  spirited 
and  poetic  account  of  the  six  days'  creation,  and  was 
reproduced  by  itself,  under  the  title  of  Hexaemeron, 
before  the  seventh  century.  As  a  narrative,  it  was 
the  best  part  of  the  work,  and  continued  widely  read, 
while  the  other  two  books  of  the  poem  were  neglected, 
filled  as  they  were  with  expression  of  the  poet's  feel- 
ing and  thoughts  springing  from  his  sad  lot.  They 
contain  disconnected  narratives,  passing  from  the  mis- 
eries of  the  poet's  time  to  the  salvation  brought  by 
Christ,  and  again  to  the  heroes  of  pagan  antiquity. 

Contemporary  with  Dracontius  lived  Avitus  in 
Gaul,  his  life  extending  through  the  first  quarter  of 
the  sixth  century.  He  died  as  bishop  of  Vienna  in 
Auvergne.  His  poem,  the  most  original  of  the  early 
Latin  poems  based  on  Biblical  story,  was  called  De 
spiritalis  historiae  gestis;  its  special  divisions  received 
the  following  titles :  De  origine  mundi,  De  originali 
peccato,  De  sententia  dei,  De  diluvio  mundi,  De  tran- 
situ maris  rubri.  The  first  three  constitute  a  veritable 
poem,  having  a  definite  subject  imaginatively  treated 


ec]  EARLY  LATIN   CHRISTIAN   POETRY  283 

—  the  fall  of  man,  or  "  Paradise  Lost."  Avitus  was  a 
precursor  of  Milton,  who  appears  to  have  used  the  Latin 
poet. 

Book  the  first  sings  of  God  moulding  man  from 
dust,  which  He  transforms  to  living  flesh  and  blood. 
In  the  night  succeeding  the  sixth  day,  God  formed 
Eve  from  the  side  of  Adam,  as  the  Church  sprang 
from  the  pierced  side  of  Christ.  The  Creator  bids 
them  live  together  in  concord  and  fill  the  earth. 
A  description  of  Paradise  follows,  and  then  the 
Almighty's  prohibition.  The  second  book,  —  "  The 
Fall,"  —  opens  with  a  picture  of  the  happy  life  in 
Paradise.  Then  comes  a  description  of  the  Devil's 
nature,  and  of  his  jealousy,  his  utter  pride,1  and  his 
elation,  in  misery,  at  the  power  left  to  him  of  work- 
ing evil  —  summa  virtus  nocendi.  He  takes  on  the 
Serpent's  form  and,  "terrible  in  his  fearful  beauty," 
he  seeks  Eve,  whom  he  deceives  with  serpentine  ad- 
dress. The  poet  pictures  Eve  toying  with  the  apple,  till 
she  tastes.  Then  Adam  tastes.  After  two  digressions 
on  Lot's  wife  and  Astrology,  the  book  closes  with  the 
Serpent's  song  of  triumph  — "  God  made  you,"  he 
cries  to  the  guilty  pair ;  "  I  taught  you ;  you  are  as 
much  mine  as  His." 

9 

The  third  book  tells  the  shame  which  leads  Adam 
and  Eve  to  clothe  themselves,  then  Adam's  proud 
plaint  to  God  —  better  had  he  remained  wifeless!  — 
and  then  the  sentence,  and  the  expulsion  to  the  world 
without,  which  seems  so  ugly  after  Paradise,  the  day 

1  Both  Avitus  and  Milton,  in  the  character  of  Satan,  have  been 
true  to  the  common  Christian  conception  of  pride  as  chief  of 
sins. 


284  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

so  pale  and  the  heavens  so  far  away.  The  book  ends 
with  the  lines :  — 

Livida  quos  hostis  paradisa  depulit  ira, 
Fortior  antiquae  reddat  tua  gratia  sedi. 

The  fourth  book,  on  the  Flood,  is  hardly  connected  with 
the  preceding  ones  ;  the  story  is  told  with  spirit,  but 
with  much  symbolism.  The  Ark  naturally  is  the 
Church ;  the  ravens  remaining  without  to  tear  the 
dead  are  the  Jews ;  and  the  rainbow  is  the  type  of 
Christ.  In  the  fifth  book,  the  poet  treats  freely  and 
symbolically  the  story  of  the  Exodus. 

IV.    TJie  Transition  to  Mediaeval  Latin  Poetry 

The  early  Christian  Latin  poets,  as  inheritors  of 
antique  culture,  used  antique  metres  and  made  such 
use  of  the  forms  of  antique  poetry  as  their  own  facul- 
ties and  the  novelty  of  their  subjects  permitted.  Pa- 
gan commonplace  and  reminiscence  survived  in  their 
poems.  With  the  approach  of  the  Middle  Ages,  the 
antique  metres  decayed  or  were  transformed  to  accent- 
ual rhythms;  the  appreciation  of  antique  forms  of 
poetry  passed  away;  the  antique  pagan  phrases  no 
longer  flowed  so  naturally  and  abundantly. 

As  has  been  seen,  Christian  Latin  poets  of  the  fourth 
and  fifth  centuries  chose  the  simpler  classical  metres. 
A  few  accentual  hymns  were  written  even  then,  and 
a  tendency  to  preserve  the  force  of  accent  in  metrical 
verse  had  already  appeared.  After  the  fifth  century, 
rhymes  became  more  frequent.  Then,  very  gradually, 
accent  took  the  place  of  quantity  as  the  determinant 
of  the  rhythm,  and  with  this  change  rhymes  devel- 


rx]  TRANSITION  TO  MEDIEVAL  POETRY  285 

oped  strikingly.  Of  the  old  metres,  the  hexameter, 
the  elegiac,  and  the  sapphic  did  not  lend  themselves 
readily  to  the  change  from  quantity  to  accent.  Though 
continuing  in  rude  use  in  mediaeval  Latin  poetry,  they 
did  not  become  a  medium  for  the  evolution  of  accent- 
ual verse  forms.  On  the  other  hand,  the  simple  iam- 
bic and  trochaic  metres  readily  jjassed  through  the 
change  and  emerged  from  it  to  new  life  as  accentual 
verse,  with  the  added  element  of  rhyme.1  From  this 
accentual  and  rhymed  verse  novel  verse-forms  were 
developed  with  more  impressive  rhymes.  This  poetry 
reached  its  zenith  in  the  hymns  of  Adam  St.  Victor 
and  other  great  hymn  writers  of  the  twelfth  century.2 
Latin  hymns  composed  through  the  twelfth  and  thir- 
teenth centimes  still  constitute  living  verse,  though 
life  had  departed  from  other  forms  of  poetry  in  Latin, 
and  was  flowering  in  the  lyric  and  narrative  poetry  of 
the  Teutonic  and  Eomance  tongues.3 

1  See  ante,  p.  265.  A  collection  like  that  of  E.  du  Meril,  Poesies 
populaires  latines,  shows  how  the  life  of  Latin  poetry  passes  into 
accentual  rhymed  verses  formed  from  these  metres,  and  does  not 
remain  in  the  metrical  poetry.  The  Waltharius  is  an  exception  to 
this  rule.  It  was  composed  in  hexameters  by  Ekkehard  I,  abbot 
of  St.  Gall  (d.  973),  and  rewritten  by  Ekkehard  IV  between  1021 
and  1031.  The  substance  of  this  famous  poem  was  Teutonic  legend, 
and  Ekkehard  composed  it  in  hexameters  apparently  as  a  school 
exercise  (Ebert,  Allge.  Ges.,  Ill,  p.  266).  It  is  one  of  the  most  spir- 
ited pieces  of  mediaeval  narrative  poetry. 

2  There  was  in  the  Middle  Ages  a  mass  of  popular  Latin  songs 
which  frequently  reflect  or  parody  the  versification  and  phraseology 
of  Latin  hymns.  These  Carmina  Burana,  or  Goliardic  poems,  as 
they  are  called,  have  life  and  sometimes  beauty,  and  like  the  hymns 
are  characterized  by  effective  rhymes. 

3  The  verse  forms  of  the  Romance  tongues,  with  their  assonance 
and  rhyme,  came  from  Latin  accentual  verse.     Early  Teutonic 


286  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

Naturally,  no  date  can  be  set  for  the  change  from 
quantity  to  accent  and  rhyme  in  Latin  poetry.  Be- 
tween the  eighth  and  the  tenth  centuries  a  mass  of 
accentual  poetry  was  composed.  Herein  were  hymns 
and  other  religious  poems ;  also  poems  of  a  secular 
character.  Among  the  latter  were  laments  (plano 
tus),1  poems  upon  battles2  or  other  striking  events,3 
poems  of  a  satirical  or  polemic  character,4  narrative 
poems  with  subjects  taken  from  Scripture  or  from 
antiquity.  At  the  same  time  there  was  an  academic 
use  of  metre.  For  these  were  the  centuries  of  the 
Carolingian  revival,  which  was  necessarily  a  revival 
of  the  antique.  In  that  time  of  endeavor  after  a  higher 
order  of  culture,  men  could  turn  only  to  the  antique 
world.  Alcuin,  Charlemagne's  minister  of  education, 
wrote  poems  in  metre,  as  did  others  of  his  time  and 
the  times  after  him.5     In  fact,  there  was  no  period  of 

(Anglo-Saxon,  Norse,  Old  German)  verse  depended  on  the  allit- 
eration of  strong  syllables ;  it  gradually  modified  its  rhythm  and 
adopted  rhyme  under  the  influence  of  Latin  and  Romance  poetry. 

1  E.g.,  "  Planctus  de  obitu  Karoli,"  Dummler,  Poet.  Lat.  Aev. 
Car.,  I,  434-436. 

2  E.g.,  "  De  Pippini  regis  victoria  avarica,"  Dummler,  op.  cit.,  I, 
116;  The  Battle  at  Fontanetum  (841  a.d.),  Diimmler,  op.  cit.,  II, 
138. 

8  E.g.,  on  the  destruction  and  restoration  of  the  cloister  at 
Glonna,  Dummler,  op.  cit.,  II,  146. 

4  E.g.,  against  the  town  of  Aquilegia  and  its  claims,  Dummler, 
op.  cit.,  II,  150. 

6  Alcuini  Carmina,  printed  in  Dummler,  Poet.  Lat.  Aev.  Car., 
1, 161-351.  His  contemporary,  Paulus  Diaconus,  wrote  both  metri- 
cal and  accentual  verses,  see  Ebert,  Allge.  Ges.,  II,  48-56;  poems 
printed  in  Dummler,  op.  cit.,  I,  27-86.  The  Marty rologium  of 
Wandalbert,  completed  cir.  848,  shows  considerable  knowledge  of 
classic  metres  and  skill  in  their  use;  Dummler,  op.  cit.,  II,  569- 


ix]  TRANSITION  TO  MEDIEVAL  POETRY  287 

the  Middle  Ages  when  metrical  Latin  verse  was  not 
produced. 

The  early  Christian  Latin  poets  followed  the  usual 
forms  or  genres  of  antique  poetry,  yet  with  devia- 
tions caused  by  the  novel  character  of  Christian  topics 
as  well  as  by  the  declining  literary  taste  of  the  period 
in  which  they  wrote.  The  classical  world  had  always 
been  familiar  with  epic  poems,  i.e.  heroic  narratives 
in  hexameters ;  and  from  the  times  of  Hesiod  and 
Xenophanes  that  metre  had  been  used  in  didactic  and 
philosophic  compositions.  The  general  conception  of 
a  large  narrative  poem  occupied  with  a  lofty  theme 
passed  into  classically  educated  Christendom.  The 
substance  of  the  Christian  attempts  at  epic  poetry 
was  taken  from  the  Pentateuch  and  the  Gospels. 
Pale  reproductions  of  Gospel  story  were  Juvencus' 
Historia  Evangelica  and  Sedulitis'  Carmen  Paschale. 
Small  literary  gain  came  to  the  narratives  of  Genesis 
from  the  Commentaries  of  Claudius  Marius  Victor. 
Dracontius'  Hexaemeron  was  a  more  spirited  produc- 
tion ;  and  in  the  poem  of  Avitus  emerges  at  length  an 
epic  of  the  Pall  of  Man. 

There  was  little  epic  quality  in  these  poems ;  char- 
acters as  well  as  narratives  were  paraphrases  rather 
fchan  creations.  The  poems  lacked  unity  and  heroic 
action.  Their  lofty  themes  constituted  religious 
narratives  in  which  the  action  was  not  wrought 
out  through  the  greatness  and  energy  of  the  charac- 

603;  Ebert,  op.  cit.,  II,  185-189;  so  does  the  Vita  S.  Germani  by 
Heiricus  (Traube),  Poet.  Lat.  Aev.  Car.,  Ill,  432-517  ;  Ebert,  op.  cit., 
II,  289-291  (cir.  873) .  Cf .  also  Norden,  Antike  Kunstprosa,  721-724, 
as  to  metrical  poems  in  the  eleventh  and  twelfth  centuries. 


288  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

ters.1  In  epic  spirit  and  heroic  action  these  Latin 
poems  are  surpassed  by  the  Anglo-Saxon  and  old 
German  paraphrases  of  Scripture.2 

Lengthy  narratives  in  hexameter  or  in  elegiac  coup- 
lets continued  to  be  written  by  clerical  hands  through 
the  Carolingian  period  and  the  time  of  the  German 
Ottos.  Among  them  were  Vitae  Sanctorum.  An 
example  of  these  is  the  Vita  Sancti  Oermani  written 
(cir.  876)  by  Heiricus.3  It  consisted  of  six  books  of 
hexameters,  each  preceded  by  a  prefatio  written  in 
some  other  metre.  The  poem  was  founded  on  an 
older  prose  Vita,  and  tells  the  story  of  the  saint's 
entire  life.  The  subject  was  not  epical,  nor  was  its 
treatment  heroic.4  Of  somewhat  greater  epic  possi- 
bilities was  the  subject  of  Ermoldus  Nigellus'  poem 
(cir.  827),  In  honorem  Hludovici,  consisting  of  four 
books  of  elegiac  couplets.5  But  again,  it  is  the  whole 
life  of  the  hero  that  is  told,  and  the  narrative  is  not 
made  to  revolve  around  a  central  event,  so  as  to  give 
it  an  epic  unity.  In  this  respect,  the  unknown  author 
of  the  Gesta  Berengarii  Imperatoris*  did  better;  his 
five  books  tell  the  career  of  Berengarius  in  gaining 
the  imperial  crown,  and  stop  when  the  crown  is  won. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  poem  of  the  famous  nun  of 

1  Avitus'  Devil  is  exceptional  in  this  respect. 

2  E.g.,  the  Saxon  Genesis  and  the  Old  German  Heliand. 

s  Traube,  Poet.  Lat.  Aev.  Car.,  Ill,  432-517;  Ebert,  Allge.  Ges., 
II,  289. 

4  A  similar  life  in  metre  is  Milo's  Vita  S.  Armandi,  Tranbe, 
op.  cit.f  III,  567-609.  Fortunatus,  about  three  centuries  before, 
wrote  a  Life  of  St.  Martin  in  four  books  of  hexameters,  based  on 
the  Life  by  Sulpicius  Severus. 

6  Poet.  Lat.  Aev.  Car.,  II,  1-79. 

«  Ib.t  IV,  354-403;  see  Ebert,  Allge.  Ges.t  III,  138-143. 


ix]  TRANSITION   TO  MEDLEVAL  POETRY  289 

Gandesheim,  De  gestis  Oddonis  I  imperatoris,  is  a  sort 
of  family  history.1  Of  the  Latin  poems  of  the  early 
Middle  Ages,  the  poem  of  Abbo  (cir.  896),  De  bellis 
Parisiacce  urbis,2  rude  as  it  is,  approaches  nearest  to 
an  epic.  The  subject  of  its  three  books  of  hexameters 
is  the  attack  of  the  Normans  upon  Paris,  a  topic  having 
national  importance.  As  the  poem  treats  of  a  central 
event,  so  it  also  has  a  proper  hero,  Odo,  and  the  bar- 
barous Latin  narrative  is  spirited.  Ekkehard's  Wal- 
tharius  was  an  equally  spirited  and  far  more  polished 
production.  But  the  successful  escape  and  adventures 
of  Waltharius  and  Hildegarde  hardly  make  a  subject 
of  epic  breadth,  and  lack  the  epic  element  of  national 
importance  which  is  possessed  by  the  subject  of  Abbo's 
poem. 

As  the  successors  of  antique  didactic,  philosophic, 
and  scientific  poets  —  classical  Greek,  Alexandrian, 
and  Roman3  —  Prudentius  and  others  used  both  the 
hexameter  and  the  elegiac  metre  in  polemic  and 
religiously  didactic  poetry.  The  plaintive  or  com- 
memorative elegiac  poems,  which  make  the  proper 
Christian  elegy,  had  also  their  pagan  predecessors.4 

1  This  poem  of  Hrotsvith  is  printed  in  Mon.  Germ.  Hist.  Scrip- 
tores,  IV,  p.  317,  etc. 

2  Printed  in  Mon.  Germ.  Hist.  Scriptores,  II,  776-803,  and  in 
Poet.  Lat.  Aev.  Car.,  IV,  72-121.  See  also  Ebert,  op.  cit.,  Ill, 
129-138. 

3  The  ancient  classic  line  of  poets  would  be  Hesiod,  Xenophanes, 
Parmenides,Empedocles  ;  the  Alexandrians,  Aratos  (Phaeriomena, 
translated  by  Avienus  last  part  of  fourth  century  a.d.)  and  Era- 
tosthenes; the  Romans,  Lucilius,  Lucretius,  Virgil  (Georgics), 
Ovid  (Fasti). 

4  One  might  look  as  far  back  as  to  the  ancient  elegiac  poets, 
Solon,  Theognis,  etc. ;  then  Antimachus  of  Colophon  (see  Couat, 

u 


290  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

On  the  other  hand,  novel  subjects,  a  new  feeling, 
and  different  social  conditions  evoked  novel  forms  of 
poetry.  Prudentius'  Psychomachia  was  a  novelty,  and 
his  ballad  hymns  of  the  Peristephanon  had  no  pagan 
predecessors;  though  possibly  a  certain  relationship 
may  be  felt  between  the  jaunty  hexameters  of  the 
Greek  Hymn  to  Hermes  and  the  Latin  Christian  poet's 
ballad-hymn  in  honor  of  St.  Laurence.  Pagan  poetry 
had  its  songs  or  "hynms"  in  honor  of  gods  and 
heroes.  But  the  substance,  more  especially  the  feel- 
ing, of  the  veritable  Christian  hymns  of  worship  was 
so  different  from  anything  in  pagan  literature  or  life 
that  new  forms  of  composition  were  evolved  as  the 
Christian  spirit  attained  the  power  of  self-expression. 
The  drama  is  an  exception  to  the  general  fact  of 
the  continuity  between  the  antique  and  mediaeval 
forms  of  Latin  literature.  Long  before  the  time  of 
Constantine  the  pantomime  and  the  arena  had  de- 
stroyed the  theatre.  The  people  cared  for  neither 
tragedies  nor  comedies.  In  the  fourth  and  fifth  cen- 
turies there  was  no  drama  to  pass  over  into  Christian 
literature  with  the  other  antique  forms  of  composi- 
tion. The  rhetorical  tragedies  ascribed  to  Seneca  are 
the  latest  extant  Latin  pagan  plays;  and  probably 
they  were  not  written  to  be  acted.  We  know  of  no 
further  dramatic  compositions  until  the  middle  of  the 
tenth  century,  when  Hrotsvith  of  Gandersheim  wrote 
her  pious  imitations  of  Terence.     Hrotsvith  does  not 

Potsie  Alexandrine,  p.  62);  then  the  Alexandrians,  Philetas,  Her- 
mesianax,  Callimachus ;  and  then  the  Latins,  Tibullus,  Propertius, 
and  Ovid.  Love  was  the  usual  theme  of  the  Alexandrian  and  Latin 
elegiac  poets. 


ix]  TRANSITION   TO   MEDIAEVAL  POETRY  291 

appear  to  have  been  an  influence  in  the  subsequent 
mediaeval  development  of  either  liturgical  or  comic 
plays.  The  antique  drama  was  dead  before  the  rise  of 
Christian  Latin  Literature,  and  there  seems  to  be  no 
connection  between  it  and  mediaeval  plays.1 

Naturally  Christian  Latin  poems  reflect  classic 
phrase  and  pagan  commonplace  and  reminiscence. 
Plagiarism  has  been  frowned  on  only  in  modern 
times.  Classic  Latin  poets  borrowed  from  the  Greeks 
or  from  each  other.  The  habit  passed  to  Christian 
writers.  A  man  seeking  to  express  what  he  has  created 
or  what  he  has  felt  and  made  his  own  with  power,  is 
likely  to  say  it  in  his  own  words.  Thus  it  was  with 
some  of  the  early  devotional  productions  of  Christian 
poets ;  there  is  no  borrowed  phrase  or  definite  classi- 
cal reminiscence  in  the  hymns  of  Ambrose.  But  it 
was  otherwise  when  a  Christian  came  to  reset  the 
Gospel  story  in  hexameters,  or,  like  Paulinus  of  Nola, 
occupied  his  pious  leisure  writing  folios  of  elegiac 
verse.     The  words  and  phrases  of  the  great  poets  who 

1  That  is  to  say,  the  antique  drama  is  not  connected  with  the 
origin  of  Easter  and  Christmas  plays  or  "Mysteries  n  or  medieval 
pantomime.  See  Petit  de  Julleville,  Hist,  de  la  Langue  et  de  la  Lit. 
Francaise,\o\.  II,  pp.  399-445;  ib.,  Les  Mysteres ;  Froning,  Das 
Drama  des  Mittelalters ;  Ebert,  op.  eft.,  Ill,  314-329.  The  Middle 
Ages  even  lost  the  original  meaning  of  the  words  "comedy"  and 
"tragedy";  by  comedy  was  understood  a  poetic  narrative  begin- 
ning in  horrors  and  ending  joyfully,  and  using  lowly  language, 
while  tragedy  begins  quietly  and  ends  in  horror,  and  uses  sublime 
language,  —  so  Dante  thinks  in  the  letter  to  Can  Grande,  Dante's 
Ep.,  X,  10.  The  definition  in  this  letter  was  taken  from  Uguccione 
da  Pisa,  see  Toynbee,  Dante's  Obligations  to  the  Magna*  Deriva- 
tions of  Uguccione  da  Pisa,  Romania,  XXVI  (1897) ,  537.  For  post- 
mediaeval  Aristotelean  conceptions  of  the  drama,  see  Spingarn, 
Literary  Criticism  in  the  Renaissance,  p.  60  et  seq. 


292  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

had  written  in  these  metres  would  certainly  come  to 
him.  Modern  education  offers  no  analogy  to  the  many 
ways  in  which  the  Latin-speaking  youth  were  satu- 
rated with  Virgil.  They  almost  wrote  Virgil  as  they 
spoke  Latin. 

Thus  classical  reminiscence  and,  above  all,  Virgilian 
phrase  entered  Christian  Latin  poetry.  Even  Com- 
modianus,  writing  with  intentional  illiteracy,  has 
Virgilian  phrases,  and  shows  knowledge  of  Horace, 
Lucretius,  and  Terence.1  Juvencus  and  Sedulius  are 
Virgilian  in  phrase  and  tone,  so  far  as  mediocrity  can 
reflect  greatness.  Paulinus  of  Nola,  educated  in  pagan 
rhetoric,  with  some  faculty  of  diction  and  no  original- 
ity, never  thought  to  avoid  classical  phrases.  His 
Carmen  VII,  an  adaptation  of  the  first  psalm,  begins 
with  Horace's 

*  Beatus  ille  qui  procul '  vitam  suam 
Ab  impiorum  segregavit  coetibus  ; 

and  again  in  Carmen  XIII  he  plays  devotionally  with 
the  name  of  Felix  in  the  words  of  Virgil :  — 

Sis  bonus  ofelixque  tuis. 

Prudentius,  also,  shows  his  classic  education,  though 
not  borrowing  so  profusely.  The  following  lines  from 
his  Apotheosis  curiously  echo  Horace  and  Lucretius :  — 

0  nomen  praedulce  mihi!  lux,  et  decus,  et  spes, 
Praesidiumque  meum  !  requies  o  certa  laborum, 
Blandus  in  ore  sapor,  fragrans  odor,  irriguus  fons, 
Castus  amor,  pulchra  species,  sincera  Voluptas. 

i  See  Dombart's  edition  (Vol.  XV  of  Vienna  Corpus),  Pref., 
pp.  iii-vi. 


ix]  TRANSITION  TO  MEDIEVAL  POETRY  293 

Phrases  classically  reminiscent  carried  hallowed 
associations,  and  gave  tone  and  feeling  to  the  lines 
in  which  they  fell.  But  a  misuse  might  be  ridiculous. 
In  one  so  much  a  poet  as  Avitus  it  is  a  little  pause- 
giving  to  find  the  Almighty  setting  his  marriage 
admonition  and  blessing  of  our  first  parents  in  words 
borrowed  from  Jupiter's  promise  to  Venus  that  empire 
without  end  should  be  the  lot  of  ^Eneas'  race : 

Vivite  concordi  studio,  mundumque  replete; 

***** 
Prog enium  sine  fine  dedi.  .  .  .* 

Besides  these  veritable  Christian  poets,  there  were 
nominal  Christians  whose  poetry  discoursed  of  pagan 
themes.  Such  was  Ausonius,  friend  and  master  of 
Paulinus ;  Apollinaris  Sidonius  (430-480)  of  Lyons,  a 
rhetorician-poet  of  noble  birth,  ability,  and  bravery, 
whose  panegyric  on  the  shadow  emperor  Anthemius 
was  rewarded  with  the  office  of  prsef ectus  urbi ;  and 
Ennodius  (473-521)  of  southern  Gaul.  One  may 
hardly  speak  of  pagan  reminiscence  in  poetry  which 
is  pagan  by  descent,  and  frankly  pagan  in  spirit  and 
in  theme.  These  writers  fill  their  poems  with  my- 
thology as  naively  as  the  pagan  poets  Claudianus  and 
Eutilius. 

A  partial  change  was  not  far  off.  In  the  fifth  and 
sixth  centuries  Teutonic  barbarians  were  entering 
the  Empire  in  great  masses ;  they  were  learning  the 
Latin  language  and  gaining  some  knowledge  of  the 
literature.  The  barbarians  received  Christianity  upon 
a  foundation  of  German  mood  and  feeling,  and  not, 
as  the  Latin  Christians  had  received  it,  upon  a  foun- 
1  Avitus,  I  (De  origine  mundi) ,  173. 


294  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

dation  of  classical  culture ;  they  received  Christianity 
more  as  a  " little  child";  and  through  it  they  also 
received  civilization  and  Latin  culture.  The  effect  of 
Christianity  upon  the  German  character,  language, 
and  institutions  was  revolutionary.1  But  the  German 
character  was  never  Latinized,  though  greatly  altered 
in  those  countries  where  Germanic  speech  was  aban- 
doned for  a  Eornance  tongue.  Even  there  German 
mood  and  tradition  long  endured,  though  deeply  Chris- 
tianized. A  poet  who  writes  for  Franks,  Goths,  and 
Thuringians,  is  not  writing  for  people  who  have  drawn 
in  classical  culture  with  their  mother's  milk.  And  the 
tendency  will  be  for  Latin  poetry,  written  within  the 
sphere  of  influence  of  the  Christianized  German  mood, 
to  change  in  feeling,  if  not  to  find  new  themes. 

An  illustration  of  this  is  afforded  by  Venantius 
Fortunatus,  whose  divers  works  are  curiously  hetero- 
geneous. He  was  a  Latin,  born  in  upper  Italy  about 
the  year  530.  He  spent  his  youth  and  early  manhood 
at  Bavenna.  Then  he  left  his  home,  to  pass  through 
Germany  into  France,  and  first  stayed  at  the  court  of 
the  Austrasian  Sigebert,  where  he  wrote  a  poem  upon 
the  marriage  of  that  prince  with  Brunhild.  Some 
time  afterward  at  Poictiers  he  won  the  patronage  and 
friendship  of  St.  Eadagunda,  a  Thuringian  princess, 
who  on  the  overthrow  of  her  father's  kingdom  by  the 
Franks  had  been  forcibly  married  to  Clotaire  I,  the 
son  of  Chlodowig. 

Fortunatus  was  a  voluminous  and  versatile  writer. 

1  From  the  time  of  Ulfilas  say  to  the  year  1000  by  far  the  greater 
part  of  the  extant  German  literature  is  religious,  as  may  be  noticed 
by  glancing  through  Piper's  Die  dlteste  Literatur. 


ix]  TRANSITION  TO  MEDLEVAL  POETRY  295 

He  had  a  classical  education  and  a  command  of  the 
ancient  metres.  Quite  naturally  his  poems  contain 
pagan  allusions.  For  instance,  he  brings  in  all  the 
paraphernalia  of  Venus  and  Cupid  in  his  epithalamion 
on  the  marriage  of  Sigebert  and  Brunhild.  But  in 
other  poems,  written  under  the  inspiration  of  his 
friendship  with  the  deep-hearted  German  woman  Rada- 
gunda,  there  enters  a  new  Germanic  feeling  as  well  as 
a  deeper  Christian  spirit.  An  example  is  his  long 
elegy  on  the  marriage  and  death  of  Gelesvintha,  sister 
of  Brunhild.  The  poem  was  written  for  Radagunda, 
who  loved  the  young  bride.  It  has  much  feeling ; 
deep  grief  is  expressed,  the  grief  of  a  mother  for  a 
daughter  torn  from  her  to  foreign  wedlock,  the  grief 
of  a  daughter  forced  to  leave  her  home  to  go  among 
strangers — then  comes  premonition,  then  the  violent 
death,  and  then  lamentation  of  nurse  and  sister  and 
mother  for  the  murdered  girl.  A  deeper  feeling  has 
entered  Latin  elegiac  verse  than  it  had  previously 
possessed  in  these  decadent  centuries.  This  is  also 
shown  by  other  elegies  of  Fortunatus  upon  the  troubles 
of  Radagunda,  —  De  Excidio  Thoringiae.  In  these  writ- 
ings, classic  reminiscence  and  commonplace  have  given 
way  to  a  genuine  expression  of  the  poet's  own  feelings 
and  the  feelings  of  those  surrounding  him. 

Likewise  with  his  hymns.  Although  they  are  met- 
rical and  observe  quantity,  they  belong  to  the  coming 
time,  rather  than  the  past.  His  famous  Vexilla  regis 
prodeunt  is  in  iambic  dimeters,  but  assonance  and 
rhyme  help  to  express  the  new  spirit  with  which  it 
glows.  His  equally  famous  Pange,  lingua,  gloriosi proe- 
lium  certaminis  is  in  the  popular  trochaic  tetrameter. 


296  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

It  utters  the  mediaeval  feeling  for  the  Cross,  so  differ- 
ent from  that  of  the  early  Church  in  the  Roman  Em- 
pire. From  the  fourth  century  the  Cross  was  becoming 
an  object  of  deep  devotion.  No  longer  connected  with 
shame,  it  was  the  emblem  of  the  Saviour's  glory.  For- 
tunatus  approaches  it  with  reverence  and  adoration, 
also  with  a  new  spirit  of  love  for  the  sacred  wood :  — 

Crux  fidelis,  inter  omnes  arbor  una  nobilis 
(Nulla  talem  silva  prof ert  Jlore  fro  nde  germine) 
Dulce  lignum,  dulce  clavo  dulce  pondus  sustinens. 

This  hymn  has  caught  the  mediaeval  spirit. 

Fortunatus'  poems  are  representative  of  the  modes 
in  which  the  antique  survived  in  mediaeval  Latin 
poetry  as  well  as  of  the  ways  in  which  it  was  super- 
seded :  antique  phrases  and  the  references  to  pagan 
tradition  and  mythology  never  cease ;  they  are  of 
course  more  common  in  some  writers  than  in  others.1 

1  We  find  abundant  classic  phrase  and  reminiscence  in  the  poets 
who  lived  in  the  midst  of  the  Carolingian  revival,  when  learned 
men  turned  to  antiquity  for  their  guidance.  For  example,  the 
hexameters  of  Hibernicus  Exul  reflect  Virgilian  phrase  (Diimmler, 
Poetae  Lat.  Aev.  Car.,  I,  395,  etc.).  Likewise  the  Vita  Aegili,  by 
"  Candidus  "  (Brunn),  in  its  versified  portions  is  full  of  Virgil  and 
Ovid  (Diimmler,  op.  cit.,  II,  94-117).  The  phrases  of  the  great 
classics  do  not  flow  as  copiously  in  the  later  Middle  Ages,  and  yet 
never  entirely  fall  from  the  memory  of  scholars.  For  example,  in 
a  long  rhyming  poem  on  St.  Thomas  k  Becket  occurs  this  line,  almost 
out  of  Horace :  — 

Coelum  non  animum  mutat  transmarinus. 
(E.  du  Meril,  Poesies  Populaires  Latines  du  Moyen  Age,  II,  p.  76.) 
Only  the  last  word  varies  from  Horace's  line.  So  the  popular  Goli- 
ardic  Latin  Poems  commonly  attributed  to  Walter  Mapes  (ed.  by 
Wright)  have  quantities  of  classical  allusions,  which  is  also  true  of 
the  drinking  and  love  songs  in  the  collection  of  Carmina  Burana. 
Others  of  the  Carmina  Burana  have  the  Tale  of  Troy  as  their 
subject. 


ix]  TRANSITION   TO  MEDIEVAL  POETRY  297 

On  the  other  hand,  the  antique  spirit  ceases  utterly  ; 
it  is  replaced  by  the  more  completely  Christianized 
genius  of  the  Middle  Ages.  Speaking  more  particu- 
larly, the  antique  sense  of  form  and  proportion,  the 
antique  observance  of  the  mean  and  avoidance  of  ex- 
travagance and  excess,  the  antique  dislike  for  the 
unlimited  or  the  monstrous,  the  antique  feeling  for 
literary  unity,  and  abstention  from  irrelevancy,  the 
frank  love  for  all  that  is  beautiful  or  charming,  for  the 
beauty  of  the  body  and  for  everything  connected  with 
the  joy  of  mortal  life,  the  antique  reticence  as  to  hopes 
or  fears  of  what  was  beyond  the  grave,  the  antique 
self-control  and  self-reliance, — these  qualities  cease  in 
mediaeval  Latin  poetry.  The  analogy  is  clear  between 
poetry  and  the  arts  of  sculpture  and  painting  ;  in  those 
also,  antique  theme  and  reference  survived,  as  well  as 
antique  ornament  and  design ;  but  the  antique  spirit 
ceased  and  was  superseded  by  the  mediaeval  genius, 
which  within  general  lines  of  homogeneity  showed 
itself  so  diversely  according  to  the  characters  of  the 
different  peoples  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

The  traits  of  the  various  peoples  of  Western  Europe 
soon  began  to  appear  in  their  Latin  verse  and  prose,  as 
through  a  veil,  in  no  wise  as  clearly  as  they  were  to 
show  themselves  in  the  vernacular  literatures.  Incip- 
ient French  traits,  for  example,  appear  in  the  balance 
and  moderation,  the  neatness  or  deftness  of  form,  of 
the  poems  of  Paulinus  of  2sola.  In  a  different  way 
they  also  appear  in  Gregory  of  Tours'  Historia  Fran- 
coram,  a  work  in  which  the  Latin  is  taking  the  French 
order  of  words  and  acquiring  some  of  the  vivacity  and 
picturesqueness  of  Froissart.    Again,  we  seem  vaguely 


298  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

to  discern  Irish  traits  in  the  almost  burlesque  fulsome- 
ness  of  the  inscriptions  of  Columbanus'  letters  to  the 
Popes  Boniface  IV  and  Gregory  the  Great :  Pulcher- 
rimo  omnium  totius  Europae,  ecclesiarum  capiti,  papae 
praedulci,  praecelso  praesuli,  pastorum  Pastori,  reveren- 
dissimo  speculatori :  humilissimus  celsissimo,  maximo, 
agrestis  urbano,  micrologus  eloquent  issimo,  extremus 
primo,  peregrinus  indigenae,  pauperculus  praepotenti, 
mirum  dictu  !  nova  res  !  rara  avis,  scribere  audet  Boni- 
facio Patri  Palumbus.1  Likewise  a  certain  Irish  extrav- 
agance seems  discernible  in  the  Hispericafamina,  a  curi- 
ous grammatical  treatise  of  the  ninth  or  tenth  century.2 
Perhaps,  also,  one  can  discern  an  Irish  flavor  in  the 
poems  of  the  founder  of  scholastic  philosophy,  the  Irish- 
man Erigena,  or  in  other  Latin  verses  written  by  Irish- 
men in  the  later  Carolingian  period.  The  following  lines 
read  like  a  lament  of  a  "  poor  exile  from  Erin  "  :  — 

Node  dieque  gemo,  quia  sum  peregrinus  et  egens  ; 

Attritus  febribus  node  dieque  gemo. 
Plangite  me,  juvenes,  animo  qui  me  colebatis  ; 

Bideat  hinc  quisquis  ;  plangite  me,  juvenes.* 

More  clearly  the  characteristics  or  tastes  of  Anglo- 
Saxon  literature  appear  in  the  Latin  poetry  written 
by  Anglo-Saxons.  For  example,  the  alliteration  so 
marked  at  the  beginning  of  Aldhelm's  poem  Be  laudi- 
bus  Virginum*  recalls  that  cardinal  element  of  Anglo- 

1  Migne,  Patr.  Lat.,  Vol.  80,  col.  274;  also  ib.,  col.  259,  the  letter 
to  Gregory. 

2  A.  Mai,  Auctores  Classici,  V,  p.  479  et  seq. ;  and  see  ib.,  Introd., 
pp.  xlviii-1. 

8  Traube,  Poet.  Lat.  Aevi  Caroli.,  Ill,  p.  688;  see  also  ib.,  pas- 
sim, pp.  685-701. 

4  Migne,  Patr.  Lat.,  Vol.  89,  col.  239 


jx]  TRANSITION  TO  MEDLEVAL  POETRY  299 

Saxon  versification.  Also  the  many  Latin  aenigmata 
composed  by  Anglo-Saxons  reflect  their  taste  for 
riddles  so  pronounced  in  their  vernacular  literature. 
Apparently  this  kind  of  writing  was  not  original 
with  them ;  for  a  book  of  aenigmata  existed,  ascribed 
to  one  Symposius,  of  whom  nothing  is  known  except 
that  he  lived  before  the  seventh  century  and  was  not 
an  Anglo-Saxon.  But  Anglo-Saxons  cultivated  these 
riddles  in  Latin;  Tatwine,  Aldhelm,  Winfried-Boni- 
fatius,  wrote  many  of  them.  The  Anglo-Saxon  way 
of  enduing  inanimate  objects  with  life  and  feeling 
strikingly  appears  in  Aldhelm's  aenigmata.  He  bor- 
rowed a  little  from  Symposius,  but  not  this  habit;  and 
his  aenigmata  form  a  link  between  the  earlier  writer 
and  the  riddles  of  Cynewulf. 

That  portion  of  the  Teutonic  race  which  afterward 
became  German  and  dwelt  in  German  territory  ac- 
quired Latin  culture  as  brought  to  it  by  Anglo-Saxons 
(Boniface)  and  their  scholars  (Luidger),  or  by  Gallo- 
Franks.  But  as  the  Germans  begin  to  write  in  Latin 
German  feeling  shows  itself;  as,  for  example,  in  the 
elegiac  Dialogus  Agii,  written  by  the  noble  Saxon 
monk  Agius  (cir.  875)  to  commemorate  the  virtues  of 
his  sister  Hathumod.1  A  brother's  heartfelt  love  finds 
voice  in  this  poem,  which  also  echoes  the  dear  memo- 
ries of  a  loved  home.  Again,  rude  German  banter  and 
rough-handed  valor  appear  in  the  famous  Waltharius. 
Not  that  German  sentiments  and  feeling  were  to  find 
as  clear  expression  in  these  poems  as  in  the  mother 
tongue.  In  the  German  translations  or  adaptations  of 
Scripture  the  German  spirit  rings  as  true  as  the  Anglo- 
i  Traube,  Poet.  Lat.,  etc.,  Ill,  pp.  369-388. 


300  THE   CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

Saxon  in  Anglo-Saxon  poetry.  Otfried's  Evangelien 
Buck  and  the  Heliand  unveil  the  tender  loves  of  Ger- 
man home  life  and  the  race's  love  of  fight;  even  as 
the  pathetic  elegiac  Anglo-Saxon  soul  and  its  high 
devotions  find  clear  expression  in  the  Christ  of  Cyne- 
wulf. 

General  traits  of  mediaeval  humanity  might  show 
themselves  in  mediaeval  Latin  prose  and  verse.  But 
the  use  of  a  single  academic  language  could  not  but 
give  a  certain  common  tone  to  everything  composed  in 
it.  Mediaeval  Latin  retained  something  of  the  genius 
of  the  Latin  language.  No  man  could  altogether  free 
himself  from  its  influence  when  writing  Latin,  or  free 
himself  from  his  clerkly  Latin  education,  which  every- 
where consisted  of  the  trivium  and  quadrivium,  and 
in  Italy,  France,  Spain,  England,  and  Germany,  made 
like  use  of  classic  or  transitional  Latin  authors.  More- 
over, the  great  majority  of  mediaeval  Latin  writers 
were  monks  or  priests,  and  so  had  undergone  the  level- 
ling influence  of  ecclesiastic  training.  Hence  through 
all  mediaeval  Latin  literature  a  like  course  of  study, 
and  the  common  language  with  its  still  surviving, 
though  barbarized  and  antiquated,  genius,  lessens  and 
obscures  distinctive  racial  or  national  traits.  But  in 
the  vernacular  literatures  —  so  largely  the  creation  of 
uneducated  and  unpriestly  men  —  individual  and  race 
characteristics  show  themselves  clearly  and  with  power. 
Thus  in  the  Byrthnoth  and  the  Beowulf  appears  the 
stubborn  Anglo-Saxon  heroism ;  in  the  Eddie  poems 
and  the  Sagas  appears  the  Norseman's  love  of  fight  — 
so  different  from  Greek  and  Roman  valor  —  and  the 
tremendous  energy  of  the  Norse  character ;  in  the  Cid 


ix]  TRANSITION  TO   MEDIAEVAL  POETRY  301 

we  recognize  the  valor  of  the  chivalry  of  Spain,  also 
its  hate  and  unforgetting  vengefulness.  The  rash- 
ness, the  fire,  and  devotion  of  the  crusading  Frank 
find  expression  in  the  Chanson  de  Roland,  that  epic 
of  Germanic  spirit  and  Romance  form.  The  common 
hard  barbarian  Teuton  nature  is  found  in  the  old 
Hildebrandslied ;  then,  after  some  centuries  of  growth, 
clear  German  traits  are  seen  at  their  zenith  in  two 
utterly  different,  yet  typical,  expressions  of  the  Ger- 
man spirit,  the  Nibelungenlied  and  the  Parzival,  Wolf- 
ram's thoughtful  poem.  How  utterly  different  from 
all  these,  and  how  masterfully  and  inclusively  and 
finally  Italian,  is  the  Divina  Commedia,  which  is  no 
whit  Latin,  and  yet  distinctly  Italian  in  that  it  bears 
transformed  within  itself  the  classic  Latin  heritage. 


CHAPTEK  X 

CHRISTIAN    ART 

I.    TJie  Transition  from  Antique  to  Mediaeval 
Architecture 

The  course  of  architecture  from  antiquity  to  the 
Middle  Ages  shows  a  gradual  transition  from  classical 
forms  to  a  style  based  upon  other  principles  of  con- 
struction, embodying  other  elements  of  beauty,  using 
other  modes  of  decoration,  —  a  style  suggesting  what 
its  colored  and  sculptured  ornament  expressed,  the 
universal  plan,  the  spiritual  scope,  the  infinite  yearn- 
ing, the  extreme  and  mystic  emotion,  of  the  Christian 
faith.     This  completely  Christian  style  was  the  Gothic. 

Perfect  classical  types  are  the  Doric,  with  its  mas- 
culine strength,  its  definite  proportion,  its  absolute 
unity ;  and  the  Ionic,  in  its  limpid  grace  forming  the 
complementary  feminine  style.  The  Doric  and  Ionic 
styles  present  temperance,  reverence,  and  beauty,  the 
one  in  modes  proper  to  man,  the  other  in  modes  proper 
to  woman.  They  both  embody  Greek  intellect;  and 
they  disclose  complementary  modes  of  Greek  feeling 
which  might,  however,  exist  together  in  the  complete 
Greek  personality.  Plato  is  Ionic  as  well  as  Doric. 
The  younger  sister  of  the  Ionic  was  the  Corinthian,  a 
style  less  strictly  classical,  more  pliant,  and  touched 
with  the  possibilities  of  Komanticism. 
S02 


chap,  x]  ARCHITECTURE  303 

The  Romans  used  the  Greek  orders  in  the  construc- 
tion of  colonnades,  or  combined  them  with  the  arch, 
which  may  have  come  from  Etruria.  The  arcade 
formed  from  this  combination  represented  a  Roman 
style,  distinguishable  from  later  forms  taken  directly 
from  contemporary  Greek  designs,  as  the  fashion  was 
at  Pompeii.  In  temples  and  basilicas,  the  Romans  fol- 
lowed foreign  traditions ;  while  their  own  constructive 
genius  displayed  itself  in  baths,  aqueducts,  amphi- 
theatres, fortifications,  and  roads.  It  was  chiefly  for 
architectural  ornament  that  they  looked  to  the  Greek 
orders,  just  as  they  sought  for  pleasure  in  Greek  liter- 
ature. They  found  no  pleasure  in  iEschylus  or  Soph- 
ocles, nor  did  they  find  decoration  in  Doric.  The 
exclusively  supporting  function  of  a  Doric  column  was 
too  manifest  to  permit  its  use  as  mere  ornament.  The 
Ionic  was  less  austere ;  but  the  Corinthian  was  most 
richly  ornamental.  The  Romans  ordinarily  used  this 
to  support  the  architraves  of  basilicas,  or  when  the 
piers  of  an  arcade  were  to  be  ornamented  with  engaged 
columns.  The  general  plan  of  the  basilica  was  taken 
from  the  Greeks,  and  consisted,  according  to  Vitruvius, 
of  one  central  and  two  lateral  naves,  the  latter  having 
two  stories,  and  the  whole  roofed  in  wood. 

If  there  were  any  general  survival  of  Roman  build- 
ings of  the  third  and  fourth  centuries,  the  antecedents 
of  Christian  basilicas  would  not  have  become  a  special 
subject  of  archaeological  dispute.  They  would  have 
been  recognized  as  part  of  the  usual  Roman  styles  of 
construction,  having  architecturally  neither  origin  nor 
development  peculiar  to  themselves,,  No  attempt 
would  have  been  made  to  trace  the  Christian  church 


304  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

to  the  interior  arrangement  of  the  Italian  dwelling- 
house,  or  to  the  scholae  of  the  clubs,  or  to  any  parts  of 
the  underground  construction  of  the  catacombs,  or  to 
the  memorial  cellae  which  may  have  stood  before  their 
entrances.  All  these  had  features  common  to  the 
structures  of  the  time ;  and  the  same  features  may  be 
found  in  the  Christian  basilica.  The  latter  shared  its 
name  with  the  variously  shaped  private  basilicas  in 
the  palaces  of  the  emperors  and  nobility,  and  with  the 
splendid  basilicas  used  as  law  courts  and  for  other 
business  occasioning  the  assembling  of  many  persons. 
These  forensic  basilicas  presented  most  of  the  struc- 
tural elements  of  the  antique  Christian  church.  Yet 
there  may  have  been  no  relationship  of  parent  and 
child  between  them,  even  though  in  some  instances 
forensic  or  other  basilicas  were  taken  for  ecclesiastical 
uses.  When  a  Christian  basilica  was  built,  it  was 
built  to  serve  the  purposes  of  Christian  worship ;  when 
a  forensic  basilica  was  built,  it  was  built  for  the  trans- 
action of  legal  affairs.  Both  were  constructed  to 
meet  quite  similar  requirements ;  and  sometimes  a 
pagan  structure  may  have  served  as  model  for  the 
Christian. 

Christian  worship  had  begun  in  an  "  upper  room," 
and  was  carried  on  in  private  houses  until  the 
increasing  numbers  of  worshippers  required  other 
buildings.  There  were  probably  churches  in  the 
third  century  ; l  but  we  do  not  know  their  plans  or 
sizes.  The  buildings  used  for  Christian  worship  were 
destroyed  in  the  persecution   under   Diocletian;  and 

iCf.  Dehio  and  Bezold,  Die  Kirchliche  Baukunst  des  Abend- 
landes,  Chap.  I. 


x]  ARCHITECTURE  305 

to-day  no  Christian  structure  exists  antedating  Con- 
stantine.1  It  was  a  momentous  change  from  a  perse- 
cuted faith  to  a  State  religion ;  clergy  and  laity  were 
safe;  indefinitely  greater  resources  were  at  their 
disposal,  and  their  organizations  were  sustained  by 
the  dignity  and  power  of  the  Empire.  Constantine's 
Christianity  was  Roman  and  imperial,  differing  from 
the  lowliness  of  the  Gospel  as  the  basilicas  of  S.  Pietro 
in  Vaticano  and  S.  Paolo  Fuori  differed  from  an  "  upper 
room."  The  closest  architectural  relationship  of  these 
two  churches  is  with  the  Basilica  Julia  of  Caesar  and 
the  Basilica  Ulpia  of  Trajan. 

An  architectural  revival  followed  the  triumph  of 
Christianity.  Porms  of  pagan  building  were  modified 
to  meet  the  requirements  of  Christian  worship.  Ar- 
chitecturally there  was  little  that  was  specifically 
Christian  in  these  early  basilicas.  Nor  does  the  sub- 
sequent history  of  the  Roman  Christian  basilica  show 
an  organic  architectural  development.  Italy,  disturbed 
and  threatened,  smitten  with  invasion  and  pestilence, 
had  neither  the  peace,  the  resources,  or  the  faculties 
for  architectural  progress.  Basilicas  from  the  fourth 
to  the  tenth  century  are  architecturally  indistinguish- 
able. Their  columns  were  usually  taken  bodily  from 
pagan  basilicas  and  temples.  The  story  of  these 
Christian  basilicas  is  the  last  chapter  of  the  history 
of  antique  architecture  in  the  West. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  Hellenic  East  produced  a 
Christian  style  called  Byzantine.  The  chief  home  of 
this  achievement  was  Constantinople,  the  final   for- 

1  Except  the  catacombs  and  their  memorial  structures  above 
ground. 


306  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

tress  of  antique  culture  as  well  as  of  the  Graeco-Roman 
Empire.  Besides  the  basilica  form,  the  Greek  circu- 
lar temple  had  passed  to  Eome  in  pre-Christian  times. 
The  Pantheon,  built,  as  it  stands,  under  the  Antonines, 
is  the  great  example  of  a  circular  temple  crowned 
with  a  dome  of  concrete  constructed  in  the  Roman 
method.  This  dome  is  set  directly  upon  a  circular 
drum  and  therefore  needs  no  pendentives.  These  are 
rare  and  rudimentary  in  Roman  dome  construction, 
for  the  Romans  never  set  a  dome  upon  a  square  base, 
and  only  in  a  few  secondary  instances  upon  an  octa- 
gon.1 Byzantine  domes  are  not  "  cast "  with  concrete, 
but  are  constructed  out  of  layers  of  brick  or  tiles. 
Hence  they  are  not  held  together  by  the  cohesion  of 
the  material.  They  rest  either  upon  a  circular  base, 
an  octagon,  or  a  square.  The  first  are  related  to  the 
Pantheon.  The  second  are  represented  by  St.  Sergius 
at  Constantinople  and  St.  Vitale  at  Ravenna,  both 
built  in  Justinian's  time,  and  employing  pendentives. 
The  great  church  representing  the  third  group  stands 
for  the  climax  of  Byzantine  architectural  achieve- 
ment. In  the  latter  part  of  Justinian's  reign,  the 
Greek  architects  of  St.  Sophia  solved  most  beautifully 
the  problem  of  setting  a  dome  upon  a  square,  by  the 
use  of  pendentives  in  the  form  of  spherical  triangles 
resting  upon  arches.2 

1  An  instance  is  afforded  by  one  of  the  smaller  halls  in  the  Baths 
of  Caracalla. 

2  This  means  of  adjusting  a  dome  to  a  square  base  is  quite  differ- 
ent and  far  more  beautiful  than  the  ancient  (originally  Persian) 
mode  of  conical  vaults  —  "trompes" —  rising  from  the  corners  of 
the  square  and  joining  with  the  sphere  of  the  main  dome  (Choisy, 
L'histoire,  etc.,  I,  125,  II,  8).    An  interesting  modification  of  the 


x]  ARCHITECTURE  307 

St.  Sophia  represents  a  new  style  of  edifice.  The 
skill  of  its  construction,  the  excellence  and  beauty  of 
its  interior,  are  known  to  all.  The  genius  of  Chris- 
tianity was  here  operative,  and  yet  did  not  reach 
complete  expression  of  itself.  The  lack  of  sculpture 
prevented  the  building  from  declaring  its  end  and  aim 
in  the  speech  most  germane  to  architecture.  There 
was  an  aversion  in  the  Greek  Church  to  statuary 
smacking  of  idolatry.  Byzantine  carving  is  decorative 
rather  than  expressive.  Yet  architecturally  St.  Sophia 
was  as  truly  a  Christian  creation  as  the  stately  hymns 
of  Eomanos,  who  may  have  lived  while  its  domes 
were  rising.  Like  those  hymns,  St.  Sophia  was  a 
Christianizing  of  art  through  the  strength  and  genius 
of  the  civilized  and  mature  Greek  race,  and  with  no 
infusion  of  young  blood;  and,  like  those  hymns,  St. 
Sophia  was  not  unaffected  by  the  formalism  of  an 
over-mature  civilization  in  which  the  culture  and  prin- 
ciples of  the  great  classic  past  had  become  lifeless 
conventions.  In  the  West,  meanwhile,  the  old  basil- 
ica style  of  antique  Christian  building  continued  its 
unprogressive  existence,  and  antique  metres  remained 
supreme  in  Latin  Christian  poetry.  It  required  cen- 
turies for  the  religious  genius  of  the  North  to  free 
itself  from  metre,  and  create  true  heart-expressing 
Christian  hymns ;  likewise  centuries  passed  before 
the  Germanic  genius  attained  the  power  and  knowl- 
edge to  create  a  Christian  architecture.     The  West 

latter  method  maybe  seen  in  the  church  of  S.  Giovanni  dei  Eremiti 
or  in  the  Capella  Palatina,  at  Palermo.  The  juncture  between  the 
square  base  and  the  dome  is  effected  —  not  very  gracefully  —  by 
three  advancing  arches  springing  from  the  corners  of  the  base. 


308  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

had  first  to  quiet  its  wild  barbarism;  but  when  its 
genius  had  cleared,  Western  hymns  voiced  Christian 
feeling  more  simply  and  directly  than  the  hymns  of 
Romanos,  and  Gothic  cathedrals  told  their  Christian 
story,  and  even  expressed  Christian  emotion,  with  an 
adequacy  making  St.  Sophia  in  comparison  seem  Hel- 
lenic and  oriental  rather  than  Christian. 

The  styles  and  methods  by  which  the  young  races 
of  the  West  passed  from  the  antique  Christian  basil- 
ica to  Gothic  are  called  Romanesque.  Between  these 
and  the  Byzantine  there  was  a  cardinal  difference : 
Byzantine  art  was  the  work  of  a  civilized  and  mature 
people,  before  whom  lay  no  further  growth;  Eoman- 
esque was  the  work  of  young  peoples  who  were  them- 
selves to  advance,  and  with  their  progress  perfect 
their  art.  Byzantine  architecture  in  the  sixth  century 
reached  its  culmination  in  the  perfection  of  dome  con- 
struction. This  was  the  final  architectural  achieve- 
ment of  the  Greek  genius,  creative  still  even  in  the 
transformation  and  perfecting  of  adopted  forms.  The 
past,  changed,  yet  still  the  past,  was  triumphantly 
renewed  in  St.  Sophia,  quite  as  much  through  finished 
knowledge  as  through  originative  faculty,  and  all 
under  the  inspiration  of  Christianity.  But  Roman- 
esque architecture,  instead  of  a  last  creation,  was  a 
growth  of  what  was  immature  and  crude;  it  had 
neither  perfected  knowledge  nor  a  great  inheritance 
of  building  tradition ;  its  varied  progress  in  different 
Northern  lands  was  homogeneous  in  this,  that  every- 
where it  represented  continually  widening  departure 
from  the  antique,  and  increasing  knowledge  of  new 
principles  of  construction. 


x]  ARCHITECTURE  309 

Roughly  speaking,  the  period  of  Romanesque  ex- 
tends from  the  breaking  up  of  Charlemagne's  Empire 
to  the  end  of  the  twelfth  century.  It  was  a  time 
when  Germanic  peoples  collectively  were  rapidly  ad- 
vancing in  civilization ;  but  as  yet  there  was  no  large 
growth  of  towns.  Monasteries  contained  the  largest 
and  wealthiest  assemblages  of  people.  Their  needs, 
and  the  endeavor  to  replace  the  perishable  wooden 
roofs  of  the  antique  basilica  with  a  roof  of  stone,  de- 
termined the  development  of  Romanesque.  The  parts 
of  the  basilica  used  by  the  clergy  were  extended,  the 
ground  plan  reaching  the  form  of  a  Latin  cross;  the 
choirs  were  enlarged,  or  sometimes  doubled,  and  like- 
wise the  transepts;  crypts  and  clock  towers  were 
added ;  piers  and  pillars  began  to  replace  the  antique 
columns.  Toward  the  end  of  the  period,  pillars  and 
piers  were  breaking  into  clusters  corresponding  to  the 
strains  which  they  supported.  They  had  still  a  two- 
fold function,  that  of  a  pier  supporting  a  vertical 
weight  and  that  of  a  buttress  counteracting  a  thrust. 
Yet  the  spirit  of  architectonic  analysis  is  beginning  to 
distinguish  these  two  functions,  and  is  approaching  a 
corresponding  division  of  these  structural  elements 
into  pillars  and  buttresses. 

The  Roman  vault  was  cast,  a  rigid  block  of  brick 
and  concrete.  The  Romanesque  vault  was  to  be  a  liv- 
ing arch  built  of  stones.  The  antique  basilica  had 
always  a  vaulted  apse,  which  first  of  all  the  Roman- 
esque architects  constructed  in  their  manner  with  a 
vault  of  stone.  Next,  in  order  to  replace  the  flat 
wooden  roof  of  the  antique  basilica,  they  succeeded  in 
vaulting  the   side  aisles  and  then  the  central  nave, 


310  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

which  had  to  be  raised  above  the  lateral  vaulting  in 
order  to  receive  sufficient  light.  The  next  step  was  to 
substitute  cross-vaulting  for  the  barrel  vault.  One 
school  of  Eomanesque  architects  stopped  at  one  point 
of  incomplete  attainment  of  these  ends,  another  at 
another.  But  it  was  in  the  progressive  development 
of  methods  entailed  by  the  endeavor  to  vault  the  nave 
perfectly  that  Eomanesque  was  to  reach  its  apotheosis 
in  Gothic. 

Although  the  progress  of  Eomanesque  architecture 
came  through  the  energies  and  growing  experience  of 
the  northern  peoples,  the  style  was  a  continuance  of  as 
well  as  a  departure  from  architectural  forms  existing 
in  the  western  or  eastern  portions  of  what  had  been 
the  Eoman  Empire.  The  point  of  departure  was  the 
Western  antique  Christian  basilica,  from  which  the 
Eomanesque  church  took  its  general  arrangement,  its 
vaulted  apse,  and  the  arches  connecting  the  piers 
which  supported  the  nave.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
mode  of  vaulting  the  naves  was  influenced  rather  by 
the  East  than  by  antique  Eoman  principles.  A 
spherical  vault  upon  a  square  base  was  unknown  in 
the  West  until  it  appeared  in  Eomanesque  churches 
at  the  crossing  of  the  nave  and  transept;  nor  did  the 
Eomans  employ  cross-vaults  of  stone.  The  presence 
of  these  forms  in  Eomanesque  churches  betrays  the 
influence  of  Byzantine  and  other  oriental  modes  of 
building.1      Different    oriental    influences,   operating 

i  See  Choisy,  Histoire  d*  Architecture ,  II,  pp.  134-138,  200-202, 
240-257,  for  a  statement  of  the  sources  and  paths  by  which  came  the 
Eastern  influences.  Cf .  also  Hittorff.  Architecture  Moderne  de  la 
Sicile  (1835). 


x]  ARCHITECTURE  311 

with  different  degrees  of  strength,  affected  Sicily, 
southern  France,  and  the  Rhine  countries,  a  circum- 
stance leading  to  a  divergence  of  Romanesque  styles 
in  France  and  Germany  as  well  as  England.  Yet  this 
divergence  was  due  still  more  to  the  different  charac- 
teristics of  the  several  peoples,  and  the  various  condi- 
tions under  which  the  Romanesque  developed  in  these 
countries. 

In  Gothic  the  possibilities  of  Romanesque  reach 
their  logical  conclusions.  More  analytically  and  com- 
pletely the  vault  determines  the  rest  of  the  structure. 
Downward  stress  and  lateral  thrusts  have  been  an- 
alyzed ;  they  have  been  gathered  up  and  then  dis- 
tributed in  currents  of  pressure  exerted  along  the  lines 
of  the  ribs  of  the  vaulting.  Each  thrust  or  stress  is 
met  by  separate  support  of  pillar  or  colonnette,  or  by 
directly  counteracting  pressure  of  pier  and  flying 
buttress.  Through  these  the  weight  and  lateral 
thrusts  of  the  building  are  conducted  downward  and 
outward  in  channels  as  definite  as  the  gutters  which 
lead  the  rain-water  from  the  roof.  More  especially 
the  devices  of  rib  and  flying  buttress  have  facilitated 
the  use  of  the  pointed  arch,  and  have  lifted  Roman- 
esque from  the  earth ;  while  the  confinement  of 
stresses  to  definite  channels  has  enabled  the  architect 
to  replace  opaque  walls  with  a  many-colored  trans- 
lucency  of  glass,  in  which  the  Christian  story  is 
painted  in  the  light  of  heaven. 

The  architectural  ornament  emphasizes  the  structure 
of  the  building  as  determined  by  the  requirements  of 
the  vault.  Constructively,  artistically,  and  symboli- 
cally, the  ornament  of  a  Gothic  church  completes  and 


312  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

perfects  it  and  renders  it  articulate.  The  strength  of 
the  building  is  in  its  ribs  and  arches,  columns,  piers, 
and  flying  buttresses.  Their  sustaining  forms  render 
this  strength  visible.  The  lines  and  points  of  sculp- 
tured ornament  show  forth  these  forms  of  power  dis- 
tinct and  excellent  in  beauty.  Leaves  of  veritable 
plants  crown  the  columns,  making  them  as  living 
branches.  Beasts  and  birds  live  enforested  in  the 
capitals  of  the  great  pillars ;  and  the  pinnacles  of  the 
flying  buttresses,  which  are  the  final  fastenings  of 
the  giant  structure,  are  exquisitely  chiselled,  so  that 
their  beauty  may  be  equal  to  the  importance  of  their 
function. 

The  sculpturesque  ornament  is  also  strong  in  truth- 
fulness. For  the  workman  has  broken  away  from  the 
old  conventions  ;  he  has  opened  his  eyes  and  has  seen 
living  plants  with  living  foliage ;  and  he  has  wrought 
in  stone  their  life-giving  and  life-emblematic  beauty. 
Gothic  sculptors  rival  nature's  exhaustlessness  of  de- 
sign. Festoons  and  clusters  grow  and  hang  in  infinite 
variety.  Likewise  in  the  grouping  of  living  figures. 
Byzantine  art  had  been  formal  and  conventional.  For 
real  grouping,  the  artist  must  look  to  life,  where  the 
Byzantines  did  not  look,  nor  with  much  confidence 
the  hesitating  Romanesque  artists.  But  the  Gothic 
sculptor  follows  life  and  evokes  it  in  his  statuary  as 
in  his  leaf  decoration.1 


1  A  prodigious  realism  enters  some  of  the  fantastic  animal  crea- 
tions of  Gothic,  often  the  realism  of  caricature,  which  consists  in 
the  unreal  and  impossible  combination  of  elements  that,  separately, 
actually  exist.  This  gives  the  fantastic  reality  to  the  devils  and 
other  evil  beings  in  Gothic  sculpture. 


x]  ARCHITECTURE  313 

An  art  which  has  gone  back  to  nature  and  drawn 
upon  her  unfailing  newness  is  a  new  art.  Gothic 
sculpture  is  not  altogether  ignorant  of  lessons  which 
it  might  learn  from  Rome  or  Constantinople.  It  has 
had  these  lessons,  but  has  gone  forth  from  the  school- 
room to  the  world  without ;  where  it  has  become  it- 
self. And  this  art  is  Christian,  not  only  in  theme, 
but  in  its  style  and  feeling.  It  has  grown  up  among 
young  peoples  who  received  Christianity  as  little  chil- 
dren. It  can  tell  the  Christian  story,  and  can  express 
Christian  feeling  as  far  as  that  may  be  carved  in 
stone. 

Christianity  is  utter  love,  with  its  reasonable  justi- 
fication. Christian  love  is  absolute,  and  its  reasons 
compass  the  verities  of  earth  and  heaven  from  the 
beginning  to  all  eternity.  A  Gothic  cathedral  is  a 
great  piece  of  reasoning,  analytically  logical  from  its 
highest  keystone  to  its  foundations.  Its  ornaments, 
its  wealth  of  love  and  beauty,  spring  from  its  struc- 
ture, adorn  and  emphasize  that.  And  they  tell  the 
whole  tale  of  Christianity  and  include  the  story  of 
the  world,  sometimes  directly  and  again  in  symbols. 
Christianity  is  infinite ;  Gothic  follows,  as  far  as 
stone  may  follow.  The  cathedral  building  is  unlim- 
ited, unmeasured,  if  not  actually  in  size  and  intricacy, 
at  least  in  its  suggestions  and  intent.  And  over  all 
of  it  is  thrown  the  mystery  of  the  beauty  of  great  art 
—  like  the  mystery  of  the  living  union  between  Chris- 
tian love  and  its  reasons. 

Limit,  the  mean,  nothing  too  much,  these  were  prin- 
ciples which  the  Greeks  followed  in  the  contours  and 
proportions,  as  well   as   in  the  dimensions,  of  their 


314  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

temples.  The  Gothic  cathedral  strives  for  the  im- 
mense. Its  builders  were  too  intelligent  to  seek  this 
effect  merely  by  the  barbarous  means  of  enormous 
dimensions.  The  immensity  of  a  Gothic  cathedral  is 
in  every  way  enhanced  by  the  architecture.  If  actu- 
ally a  Greek  temple  was  large,  there  was  nothing  to 
indicate  its  size.  It  was  a  perfectly  proportioned 
whole.  The  architectural  proportionment  of  its  mem- 
bers was  absolute.  Each  feature  was  enlarged  or  les- 
sened with  the  general  dimensions  of  the  building; 
nothing  marked  the  scale.  Doors  and  steps,  as  well 
as  columns,  were  proportioned  to  the  size  of  the  temple, 
larger  and  higher  in  a  larger  temple,  proportionally 
diminished  in  a  smaller  one.  A  temple  was  not  de- 
voted to  practical  purposes ;  it  was  rather  dedicated 
to  the  Greek  love  of  proportion.1 

Certain  features  of  Gothic  churches  have  the  same 
dimensions  whatever  the  size  of  the  building.  In  a 
cathedral,  as  in  a  small  church,  the  height  of  the  doors 
and  of  the  steps  corresponds  to  the  size  of  human 
beings.  Likewise  the  height  of  the  galleries  and  their 
balustrades  remains  nearly  the  same.  These  compara- 
tively unchanging  dimensions  at  once  afford  a  scale 
which  renders  the  size  of  the  building  apparent.  This 
is  also  indicated  by  the  Gothic  and  Eomanesque  prac- 
tice of  making  the  height  of  every  architectural  mem- 
ber, for  example  the  capital  of  a  pillar,  a  certain 
multiple  of  the  courses  of  stones  of  which  the  pillars 
and  the  rest  of  the  building  are  built.  Moreover, 
in  Gothic  construction  the  materials  are  palpably  sub- 

1  This  absolute  proportionment  probably  did  not  hold  in  Greek 
civic  and  domestic  buildings;  see  Choisy,  op.  cit.t  I|  400-422. 


x]  ARCHITECTURE  315 

jected  to  stress  and  pressure  approaching  their  limit 
of  resistance,  and  the  eye  at  once  judges  the  size  of  a 
structure  by  the  massiveness  of  its  supports.1  Thus  the 
scale  is  marked.  But,  beyond  this,  the  size  of  the 
cathedral  is  enhanced  and  made  evident  by  the  many 
divisions  of  the  interior,  and  the  dimensions  grow 
as  unseen  spaces  are  disclosed  to  one  moving  be- 
neath the  bays  of  nave  and  pillared  aisle  and  choir. 
The  height  is  raised  by  the  prominence  of  perpendicu- 
lar or  oblique  ascending  lines.  Not  infrequently  the 
arcades  are  lowered  as  they  recede  from  the  entrance ; 
and  sometimes  the  lines  of  the  choir  are  converged. 
Thus  the  effect  of  perspective  is  enhanced  and  the 
length  of  the  building  exaggerated. 

Gothic  symmetry  also  is  different  from  the  Greek  or 
Byzantine.  Instead  of  a  succession  of  like  members 
the  symmetry  of  a  Gothic  cathedral  may  consist  in 
regular  recurrence  of  dissimilarity.  A  general  balance 
of  masses  is  preserved,  while  more  diversity  of  archi- 
tectural design  and  decorative  detail  is  admitted 
within  this  general  balance  than  in  a  Greek  temple  or 
a  Byzantine  church.  Here  the  Gothic  building  is 
nearer  to  the  symmetry  of  natural  growth.2  But  its 
single  statues  and  groups  of  statuary  rarely  equal  the 
Greek  artist's  consummate  symmetry  of  life.     Gothic 

1  Neither  the  Romanesque  nor  the  Gothic  columns  lessen  toward 
the  top,  nor  have  they  entasis;  they  are  cylindrical.  There  is  no 
proportionment  of  diameter  to  height,  as  in  the  antique,  but  the 
diameter  depends  on  the  weight  to  be  supported.  Corinthian  was 
the  only  classical  order  imitated  in  Romanesque,  and  the  imitation 
was  free. 

2  On  these  matters,  see  Choisy,  op.  cit.y  II,  167-170,  397-415; 
Dehio,  op.  cit.t  p.  198. 


316  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

statuary  is  often  realistic,  and  the  grouping  sometimes 
is  natural.  Yet,  quite  as  frequently  the  figures  are 
arranged  in  hierarchic  manner,  as,  for  instance,  within 
the  recessed  arch  of  a  doorway. 

Finitude  and,  within  it,  perfection  characterize  Greek 
creations.  To  these  qualities  Christianity  opposes 
its  infinitude.  The  Greek  temple  is  structurally  a 
unit ;  and  the  themes  of  its  sculpture  have  limit  as 
well  as  interrelation.  Structurally  a  Gothic  cathe- 
dral is  a  dynamic  organism.  Each  of  its  parts  is  a 
factor  in  the  equilibrium  of  the  whole.  Yet  its  many 
and  diverse  divisions  prevent  it  from  presenting  the 
striking  unity  of  a  Greek  temple.  The  themes  of  its 
sculpture  and  painting  extend  from  the  beginning  to 
all  eternity,  and  include  the  wicked  and  grotesque  in 
man  and  devil,  as  well  as  the  holy  and  sublime  in  man 
and  God.  Their  principle  of  unity  lies  in  their  rela- 
tion to  the  Christian  scheme  of  salvation.1  Greek 
sculpture  is  as  clear  and  open  as  the  natural  life  of 
man ;  Greek  architecture  is  apparently  as  simple  as 
in  reality  it  is  intellectual.  Gothic  sculpture  tends 
toward  mystic  symbolism;  and  the  structure  of  a 
Gothic  cathedral  discloses  subtleties  of  balance  which 
are  sheer  unrest  as  compared  with  the  classic  poise. 

II.    Antique  Christian  Painting  and  Sculpture 

From  apostolic  times,  gentile  Christians  lived  in  an 
environment  of  art,  pictorial,  statuesque,  or  merely 
decorative.       The    fact    that    they   were    Christians 

1  Cf .  Didron,  Iconographie  chre'tienne  (1843),  Introduction: 
Kraus,  Geschichte  der  christlichen  Kunst,  II,  360-384.  Besides  sub- 
jects that  could  possibly  be  regarded  as  sacred  (i.e.  related  to  sal- 


x]  ANTIQUE  CHRISTIAN  PAINTING  317 

brought  no  change  in  matters  apparently  irrelevant 
to  the  Faith  and  to  the  purer  social  morality  demanded 
by  it.  Those  who  were  in  a  servile  position  continued* 
to  live  in  the  establishments  of  their  patrons ;  those 
who  were  of  independent  station  did  not  change  the 
style  of  their  houses ;  nor  did  they  object  to  the  com- 
mon modes  of  decoration,  except  when  containing 
palpably  idolatrous  images.  The  decoration  of  Chris- 
tian houses  and  tombs  becomes  distinguishable  by  the 
omission  of  these  and  by  the  gradual  substitution  of 
Christian  themes.  For  example,  in  the  fresco  on  the 
ceiling  of  the  lower  entrance  to  the  catacombs  of  S. 
Genaro  dei  Poveri  at  Naples  (cir.  100  a.d.)  there  is 
nothing  to  shock  the  Christian  conscience,  and  yet 
nothing  distinctly  Christian.1  Christian  themes,  how- 
ever, begin  to  appear  on  the  somewhat  later  ceiling  of 
the  upper  catacombs.2  It  may  be  said  that  the  posi- 
tion of  Christians  toward  art  made  part  of  their  atti- 
tude toward  matters  of  this  world,  and  there  would 
be  individual  differences  of  opinion.3 

vation  or  damnation),  topics  from  popular  mediaeval  literature 
were  represented  in  cathedral  sculpture;  see  R.  Rosieres,  devolu- 
tion de  V architecture  en  France,  Chap.  X  {Petite  Bib.  d'art,  etc.)* 
Cf.  E.  Male,  L'art  religieux  du  XIIIe  siecle  en  France. 

1  Garucci,  II,  Tav.  90  ;  cf.  Schultze,  Archaeologie  der  Altch. 
Kunst.,  p.  164. 

2  Garucci,  II,  Tav.  95  et  seq.  These  paintings  are  now  scarcely 
visible. 

3  Tertullian,  De  Idolatria,  VI,  VII,  VIII,  inveighs  against  Chris- 
tians helping  to  make  idols.  In  Lib.  II,  Cap.  22,  of  Adversus  Mar- 
cionem,  he  distinguishes  between  images  prohibited  by  the  Mosaic 
law,  causa  idolatriae,  and  those  quae  non  ad  idolatriae  titulum 
pertinebant,  or  which  were  simplex  ornamentum.  Likewise  the 
Passio  sanctoriira  quattuor  coro.iatorum  speaks  of  these  martyrs  of 
Diocletian's  time  who  were  artiiicers,  as  willing  to  carve  an  image 


318  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

Pagan  mythological  figures  and  decorative  motives 
occur  throughout  the  Roman  catacombs,  and  upon  the 
Christian  sarcophagi  of  the  fourth  and  fifth  centuries 
found  at  Rome  and  in  the  south  of  France.1  Some- 
times the  pagan  design  is  modified  and  given  a  Chris- 
tian significance;  for  example,  the  pagan  type  of 
Hermes  carrying  a  sheep  is  transferred  to  Christ  as 
the  Good  Shepherd.  Again,  the  pagan  subject  appears 
to  have  become  a  Christian  allegory ; 2  and  a  number 
of  personifications  pass  on  from  the  pagan  antique 
into  the  Roman  and  Byzantine  Christian  art,  an 
example  of  which  is  the  mode  of  representing  the 
river  Jordan  under  the  form  of  a  river-god  in  mosaics 
in  the  churches  of  S.  Giovanni  in  Fonte  and  S.  Maria 
in  Cosmedin  at  Ravenna.  Perhaps  most  frequently 
the  pagan  image  or  pattern  is  retained  as  mere 
decoration. 

The  early  Christian  paintings  in  the  Roman  cata- 

of  the  Sun  in  his  chariot  and  also  conchas  sigillis  ornatas,  conchas 
et  lacus  cum  sigillis,  which  sigilla  were  Victories  and  Cupids,  but 
as  refusing  to  make  an  Asclepii  similacrum  (De  Rossi,  Roma  Sott., 
Ill,  578-579) .  Cf .  Miintz,  Etudes  sur  la  Peinture,  etc.,  p.  2.  Some- 
times the  same  workmen  made  objects  with  pagan  as  well  as  Chris- 
tian images  upon  them.  Le  Blant,  Revue  Archeologique,  1875,  Vol. 
29,  p.  1;  and  Rev.  Arch.,  1876,  Vol.  31,  p.  378;  Miintz,  fitudes,  etc., 
p.  3. 

1  The  vintage  and  seasons  of  the  year  designed  in  the  usual 
pagan  style  appear  upon  Christian  sarcophagi  in  the  Lateran 
Museum;  cf.,  generally,  Ficker,  Die  Altchristlichen  Bildwerke 
im  Christlichen  Museum  des  Laterans ;  and  for  pagan  themes  upon 
Christian  sarcophagi  in  Gaul,  see  Le  Blant,  Sarcophages  Chretiens 
de  la  Gaule,  Introduction,  pp.  iv-vii. 

2  As  in  the  representation  of  the  myth  of  Cupid  and  Psyche  and 
of  Orpheus  in  the  catacombs.  See,  generally,  Kraus,  Geschichte 
der  christlichen  Kunst,  I,  203-224. 


x]  ANTIQUE  CHRISTIAN  PAINTING  319 

combs  range  from  the  end  of  the  first  to  the  middle  of 
the  fourth  eentur}',  when  the  catacombs  ceased  to  be 
used  as  burial-places.1  The  subjects  are  largely  Bibli- 
cal. The  Old  Testament  scenes  most  frequently  rep- 
resented are :  The  Fall  (Adam  and  Eve)  (13  times) ; 
Noah  in  the  Ark  (26  times) ;  Sacrifice  of  Isaac  (15 
times) ;  Moses  smiting  the  Rock  (47  times) ;  the  Three 
Young  Men  in  the  Fiery  Furnace  (19  times)  ;  Daniel 
among  the  Lions  (32  times) ;  the  Story  of  Jonas  (45 
times).  From  the  New  Testament :  Adoration  of  the 
Magi  (12  times) ;  the  Healing  of  the  Paralytic  (12 
times) ;  Miracle  of  the  Loaves  (23  times)  ;  Raising  of 
Lazarus  (39  times) ;  also  a  number  of  representations 
of  Christ  and  the  Twelve.  Less  frequent  Biblical 
subjects  are:  Moses  receiving  the  Tables  of  the 
Law,  Moses  taking  off  his  Shoes ;  and  among  others 
from  the  New  Testament,  the  Healing  of  the  Blind 
Man,  and  Christ  and  the  Woman  of  Samaria.  Repasts 
are  frequently  represented,  and  family  scenes,  and  a 
large  number  of  female  figures  praying  (Orantes). 
Most  frequent  of  all  is  the  figure  of  Christ  as  the 
Good  Shepherd  (85  times)  carrying  a  sheep.2 

Besides  the  foregoing  there  are  many  paintings  of 
objects  animate  or  inanimate,  as  the  fish,  dove,  lamb, 
peacock,  lamp,  ship,  palm.  These  were  symbols  of 
the  Christian  faith.  But  were  the  Biblical  scenes, 
especially  those  of  the  Old  Testament,  intended  as 
allegorical?  Probably  no  single  categorical  answer 
will  correctly  cover  this  question. 

1  There  are  also  pictures  in  them  painted  by  pious  hands  in  the 
three  or  four  centuries  following. 

2  Hennecke,  Altchristliche  Malerei,  p.  123. 


320  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

Mentem  mortdlia  tangunt:  the  incidents  of  one 
human  life  present  analogies  to  the  actual  or  imagi- 
native experience  of  others.  Whatever  happens  to 
man  has  something  of  the  universal  in  it,  and  may 
be  typical  of  analogous  experiences  coming  to  other 
men  under  different  circumstances.  Occurrences  most 
palpably  presenting  elements  which  may  be  verified  in 
common  human  experience  are  best  suited  for  litera- 
ture and  art.  The  features  of  a  story  that  fire  the 
artist's  imagination  are  those  which  are  most  readily 
verifiable  in  his  own  life  or  spiritual  experience ;  he 
is  likely  to  represent  these  and  omit  the  rest.  The 
story  is  thus  freed  from  its  special  circumstances  and 
becomes  more  widely  typical.  All  human  events, 
and  still  more  their  presentations  in  art,  have  some- 
thing of  the  symbolical  in  them,  and  may  be  taken 
as  allegories  of  other  human  situations  and  spiritual 
experience. 

The  stories  of  the  Old  Testament  were  of  wide 
religious  application,  that  is,  were  widely  representa- 
tive of  relations  between  God  and  man ;  so  they  con- 
tained elements  of  the  universal.  The  story  of  Jonas, 
of  Moses  striking  the  rock,  or  of  Daniel  among  the 
lions,  might  be  taken  as  a  partly  allegorical  presenta- 
tion of  the  universal  truth  of  divine  rescue  of  trusting 
humanity.  This,  however,  is  different  from  treat- 
ing those  stories  as  symbolical  of  certain  subsequent 
events,  to  wit,  the  facts  and  import  of  Christ's  life  on 
earth.  But  Jesus  had  thus  specifically  applied  the 
story  of  Jonas  to  his  own  death  and  resurrection ;  and 
again  had  said,  "  As  Moses  lifted  up  the  brazen  ser- 
pent in  the  wilderness,  so  shall  the  Son  of  Man  be 


x]  ANTIQUE  CHRISTIAN  PAINTING  321 

lifted  up ;  "  Paul  made  an  allegorical  application  of  the 
incident  of  Moses  and  the  rock  —  "  and  the  Rock  was 
Christ."  *  After  apostolic  times,  the  Fathers  set  out 
upon  that  course  of  allegorical  interpretation  which 
resulted  in  treating  the  whole  of  the  Old  Testament 
as  prefigurative  of  Christ  and  the  events  of  his  earthly 
life.  This  mode  of  interpretation  reached  general 
acceptance  in  the  Christian  Church. 

The  question  is  :  Were  the  Old  Testament  incidents 
in  the  catacombs  depicted  for  what  they  were  and  for 
their  comforting  assurance  of  God's  unfailing  deliver- 
ance of  His  faithful  servants;  or  were  they  intended 
as  allegorical  representations  of  the  incidents  and 
import  of  Christ's  life  and  the  specific  elements  of 
the  Christian  faith?  Catacomb  painters,  and  sculp- 
tors of  Christian  sarcophagi  after  them,  selected  —  or 
were  given  —  scriptural  events  which  most  strikingly 
set  forth  the  miraculous  saving  power  of  God.  It  was 
largely  this  same  series  that  Christian  writers  most 
frequently  refer  to  from  the  time  of  Roman  Clement 2 
on  through  every  successive  generation  of  men.3  They 
contained  a  wealth  of  significance  and  hope.  Chris- 
tians drew  such  consolation  from  them  as  accorded 
with  their  faith.  The  fact  that  they  were  so  fre- 
quently represented  in  the  catacombs  affords  evidence, 
which  is  confirmed  in  early  Christian  literature,  of  the 

1 1  Cor.  x.  4. 

2  Cf .  Hennecke,  op.  cit.f  pp.  158-180;  Schultze,  Archaeologie,  etc., 
pp.  180-185. 

8  In  especial  they  were  also  the  occurrences  referred  to  in  ancient 
funeral  liturgies;  Le  Blant,  j&tude  sur  les  sarcophages  Chrttiennes 
antiques  de  la  ville  d' Aries,  Introduction,  §§  4  and  5;  Perate,  V  Ar- 
cheologie  Chretienae,  pp.  70-74. 

Y 


322  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

novel  and  spiritualized  import  which  they  had  for 
Christians.  The  ancient  Jewish  religion  held  scant 
expectation  of  a  future  life;  divine  deliverances 
related  to  the  earthly  fortunes  of  the  chosen  people. 
Not  so  with  Christians.  Their  faith  did  not  deliver 
them  from  human  enemies  and  earthly  torment.  The 
faith  of  Christ  delivers  from  the  bondage  of  death, 
and  raises  up  the  believer  unto  eternal  life.  Natu- 
rally the  Christian  interpreted  Old  Testament  deliver- 
ances and  also  the  miracles  of  Christ  as  symbolical 
of  this.  The  first  cause  of  its  need,  the  sin  of  our 
first  parents,  was  frequently  shown  in  the  catacombs.1 
On  the  other  hand,  habits  of  allegorical  interpreta- 
tion prevailed  in  both  pagan  and  Christian  literature ; 
allegory  and  symbolism  were  common  in  pagan  sculp- 
ture and  painting ;  and  sheer  symbols  are  frequent  in 
the  catacombs.  When  symbolism  and  allegory  were 
common  in  art,  and  when  that  system  of  allegorical 
interpretation  which  made  the  Old  Testament  prefig- 
urative  of  Christ  was  coming  to  universal  acceptance, 
many  Christians  must  have  thus  interpreted  these 
Old  Testament  scenes.  Such  allegorical  significance 
may  also  have  been  in  the  minds  of  the  painters,  or 
at  least  of  those  who  directed  them. 

This  mention  of  subjects  and  these  suggestions  as 
to  their  interpretation  are  far  from  exhausting  the 
range  or  significance  of  the  paintings  in  the  Roman 
catacombs.  There  occur  Christian  themes  not  readily 
falling  within  the  topic  of  the  saving  power  of  God, 

1  Perhaps  the  teachings  of  Paul  —  as  in  Adam  we  all  died,  so  in 
Christ  are  we  made  alive  (Rom.  v)  — had  something  to  do  with  the 
frequency  of  this  subject  in  the  Roman  catacombs. 


x]  ANTIQUE  CHRISTIAN   PAINTING  323 

as  well  as  figures  and  designs  taken  from  the  common 
decorative  painting  of  the  time.  In  style  and  tech- 
nique the  entire  painting  of  the  catacombs  is  part  of 
the  Graeco-Roman  antique.  The  work  was  carried 
on  with  dim  light;  Christians  were  not  rich  enough 
to  employ  the  best  artists ;  hence,  this  painting  never 
surpasses,  and  is  often  inferior  to,  contemporary  pagan 
decoration.  Its  best  performances  are  figures  like 
Psyche,  frankly  taken  from  the  pagan  art.  The 
Christian  compositions  are  inferior.1  Frequently 
they  rest  with  a  bare  indication  of  the  subject,  with 
slight  detail  or  setting.2  The  many  palpable  symbols 
bespeak  a  child's  need  to  make  a  sign  for  what  it 
cannot  express.  Indeed,  the  more  distinctively  Chris- 
tian paintings  in  the  catacombs  are  just  childlike 
compositions,  inadequate,  unfinished,  immature.  Yet 
they  suggest  the  furthest  hopes  of  man,  and  with 
quiet  assurance  of  their  realization  beyond  the  grave. 
There  is  no  reference  to  the  persecutions  which  occa- 
sionally, or  to  the  hatreds  which  continually,  beset  the 
Christian  folds.  No  martyrdom  is  drawn,  but  palms 
and  lilies  are  painted  on  the  tombs  of  those  who  sweetly, 
sometimes  through  fire  and  blood,  passed  to  immortal 
life.3  The  catacombs  are  at  peace  with  all  the  world; 
in  them  is  naught  but  hope  assured,  and  joy  and  love.4 

1  Moses  striking  the  Rock,  or  Daniel  among  the  Lions,  or  Noah 
in  the  Ark  exhibit  utter  inferiority  in  composition  compared  with 
the  Psyche  or  some  of  the  pictures  of  the  Good  Shepherd. 

2  Noah  in  the  Ark  is  an  illustration  of  this. 

8  Not  that  the  palm  or  lily  is  to  be  taken  as  evidence  of  a  martyr- 
dom, but  generally  of  the  victory  over  death. 

4  In  this  there  was  no  total  departure  from  the  pagan  antique ; 
for  in  Roman  and  Greek  paganism  there  is  peace  in  the  tomb,  and 
sometimes  cheerfulness,  but  little  hope. 


324  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

Little  Christian  sculpture  can  be  placed  before  the 
time  of  Constantine.  Possibly  the  statue  of  Christ  as 
the  Good  Shepherd,  in  the  Lateran  Museum,  belongs 
to  the  third  century,  to  which  belong  a  very  few 
carved  Christian  sarcophagi.  There  are  at  Eome 
many  Christian  sarcophagi  of  the  fourth  and  fifth 
centuries.  Their  reliefs  present  mainly  the  circle  of 
Biblical  subjects  painted  in  the  catacombs,  and  may 
be  interpreted  in  the  same  way.  Their  style  is  the 
Graeco-Boman  antique  of  the  time ;  and,  as  with  the 
paintings  in  the  catacombs,  the  Christian  compositions 
are  inferior  to  those  borrowed  from  pagan  designs. 

Outside  of  Eome,  the  sarcophagi  of  these  centuries 
have  sometimes  the  same  characteristics  as  the  Bo- 
man,  and  sometimes  show  deviations.  For  example, 
the  sarcophagi  of  the  southeastern  part  of  Gaul  (Pro- 
vence) resemble  the  Eoman  in  style,  while  those  of  the 
southwest  (Aquitaine)  show  local  peculiarities  and 
perhaps  barbarisms.  The  former,  and  still  more  the 
latter,  group  of  sarcophagi  present  some  new  Biblical 
subjects,  and  omit  certain  subjects  carved  upon  the 
Christian  sarcophagi  of  Eome.  The  Eavenna  sarcoph- 
agi show  Eastern  influences,  and  some  of  them  are 
altogether  Byzantine. 

The  course  of  antique  Christian  sculpture  was  com- 
paratively unimportant.  After  Hadrian's  time  the 
technique  of  Italian  sculptors  rapidly  deteriorated. 
By  the  fourth  century  they  could  not  carve  the  human 
figure  correctly,  whether  nude  or  draped.  The  new 
stimulus  which  came  to  art  with  the  free  expansion 
of  Christianity  in  the  fourth  century  revived  painting 
and  mosaic,  rather  than  sculpture.     Much  of  the  ar- 


x]  ANTIQUE  CHRISTIAN   PAINTING  325 

tistic  impulse  came  from  the  East,  from  the  new 
thriving  capital,  Constantinople,  where  sculpture  was 
itself  to  become  unsculpturesque.  Nevertheless,  even 
the  Roman  sarcophagi  disclose  a  certain  extension  of 
the  circle  of  subjects  in  the  catacombs,  and  a  certain 
modification  in  the  mode  of  presentation,  indicative  of 
the  new  stage  upon  which  Christian  painting  entered 
in  the  reign  of  Constantine. 

When  the  imperial  government  became  Christian, 
and  Christianity  was  made  the  State  religion,  impos- 
ing edifices  were  at  once  erected  for  the  purposes  of 
Christian  worship.  These  required  decoration  with 
subjects  belonging  to  the  Christian  faith  and  accord- 
ing with  the  exultation  of  the  faithful.  A  whole 
circle  of  novel  religious  compositions  was  demanded ; 
and  the  demand  was  met  with  an  energy  giving  to  this 
novel  creation  of  Christian  pictures  the  appearance  of 
a  revival  of  art  in  a  decadent  time.  And  so  it  was ; 
but  this  revival  was  limited  to  sacred  art,  and,  in 
Italy  and  the  West,  was  to  succumb  to  the  calamities 
of  barbarian  invasion,  famine,  and  pestilence.  At 
Constantinople  the  Christian  revival  of  art  was  more 
lasting,  and  passed  through  vicissitudes  before  its 
final  mummification. 

With  respect  to  the  impermanence  of  this  Christian 
revival,  one  should  bear  in  mind  that  the  arts  depend 
on  technique,  and  are  otherwise  subject  to  the  artistic 
and  intellectual  limitations  of  the  period.  In  litera- 
ture and  philosophy  the  greatness  of  the  fourth  and 
fifth  centuries  was  confined  to  the  writings  of  men 
inspired  by  Christianity  and  moved  by  ecclesiastical 
and   apologetic   needs.      Outside   of   these   Christian 


! 


326  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

writings  and  the  inspiration  of  the  Christian  situation, 
the  West  saw  no  intellectual  progress  and  little  human 
growth.  The  same  conditions  limited  the  Christian 
revival  of  art.  There  had  come  fresh  inspiration 
with  novel  and  exhaustless  topics;  but  the  living 
forces  which  make  a  period  one  of  catholic  human 
advance  were  either  too  crude,  or  too  confused  and 
wavering,  to  unite  with  the  new  inspiration  and  move 
onward  in  the  whole  strength  of  human  faculty  to  the 
creation  of  a  clear  new  style. 

The  new  situation  of  the  Church  in  the  fourth 
century  caused  a  change  in  the  purposes  and  character 
of  Christian  art,  which  had  now  to  illuminate  the 
triumphant  edifices  where  henceforth  the  Christians 
were  to  worship.  Upon  the  walls  of  the  new-built 
basilicas  the  Christian  faith  was  to  be  set  forth  pro- 
phetically, in  its  Old  Testament  types,  historically,  in 
the  miraculous  scenes  of  the  life  of  Christ,  and  finally, 
in  the  victory  of  the  cross  and  the  afar-descried  real- 
ization of  the  visions  of  the  Apocalypse.  The  faith 
was  to  endure  forever,  and  the  most  everlasting  artistic 
means  should  be  employed  to  illustrate  it. 

Mosaics  were  a  well-known  mode  of  decoration. 
Most  common  was  the  use  of  marble  mosaics  for  pave- 
ments. This  continued  in  churches.  But  the  grand 
endeavor  of  the  Christian  decorator  was  to  glorify  the 
walls  of  the  churches  with  monumental  compositions 
in  glass  and  enamel  setting  forth  Christian  themes. 
The  Romans  had  used  mosaics  of  this  kind  for  mural 
decoration,  as  Pompeian  remains  testify;  the  cata- 
combs can  also  show  some  specimens  of  the  art.  But 
in  the   Christian   revival  of   art  these   mosaics  were 


x]  ANTIQUE  CHRISTIAN   PAINTING  327 

used  with  a  new  glory  and  unparalleled  success. 
They  became  the  chief  mode  of  church  decoration, 
and  illustrate  most  markedly  the  change  in  the  char- 
acter and  style  of  Christian  art  and  the  extension 
of  its  range  of  subjects  in  the  fourth  and  fifth 
centuries. 

Early  Christian  preaching  frequently  referred  to 
the  striking  and  prefigurative  incidents  of  the  Old 
Testament  and  to  the  prophets  who  foretold  Christ ; 
also  to  the  events  of  Christ's  life  and  the  miracles 
wrought  by  Him.  Thus  many  of  the  most  impressive 
incidents  of  the  Bible  became  familiar.  The  artists 
whose  task  it  was  to  fill  the  new-built  churches  of  the 
fourth  and  fifth  centuries  with  Christian  pictures 
would  naturally  have  chosen  these  same  subjects, 
many  of  which  were  eminently  pictorial.  But  doubt- 
less it  was  the  Church  authorities  who  selected  them 
for  the  churches.  Thus  the  events  approved  by  au- 
thority, emphasized  in  preaching,  familiar  to  the 
people,  and  described  by  poets,1  were  painted  on  the 
church  walls  for  the  beautifying  of  the  churches  and 
the  edification  of  the  faithful. 

These  scenes  do  not  fall  within  narrow  limits.  They 
include  the  most  pictorial  events  of  the  Old  Testament 
and  its  Apocrypha,  and  also  representations  of  Bibli- 
cal personages ;  they  reproduce  the  life  of  the  Saviour 
in  those  incidents  which  have  been  familiar  to  all  gen- 

1  Prudentius  and  Paulinus  of  Nola  have  described  series  of  these 
scenes  as  these  poets  saw  them  on  the  walls  of  basilicas ;  Pruden- 
tius, Dittochaeon;  Paulinus,  Poemata,  XXIV,  XXV.  Cf.  Von 
Schlosser,  Quellenbuch  zur  Kiuistgeschichte  des  abendlandischen 
Mittelalters ;  Kraus,  op.  cit.,  I,  383-398;  Ficker,  Die  Bedeutung  der 
altchristlichen  Dichtungenfiir  die  Bildwerke. 


328  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

erations.  Then  these  pictures  extend  beyond  the 
Bible,  and  draw  subjects  from  the  Apocryphal  Gos- 
pels and  Acts ;  they  tell  the  whole  story  of  the  Vir- 
gin's life  and  parentage,  and  complete  the  circle  from 
the  stories  of  the  great  company  of  angels,  saints,  and 
martyrs.  The  fourth  and  fifth  centuries  made  the 
beginning.  Thereafter  the  series  continued  to  expand, 
while  custom  and  authority  tended  to  order  it  and 
to  keep  the  methods  of  representation  in  accord  with 
tradition. 

The  most  impressive  of  these  church  mosaics  are 
the  symbolic  scenes  from  the  Apocalypse  which  regu- 
larly glorify  the  apse  and  the  triumphal  arch.  The 
scenes  of  the  nave  were  taken  from  the  Old  Testament 
or  from  the  earthly  life  of  Christ;  they  represent 
prophets  or  other  Church  heroes  in  the  guise  in  which 
they  lived  on  earth.  Whenever  these  appear  in  the 
apse,  they  are  shown  in  their  state  of  future  glory,  and 
so  harmonize  with  the  apocalyptic  character  of  apse 
decorations.  The  central  figure  of  the  apse  and  the 
triumphal  arch  is  Christ  represented  in  human  form 
or  under  the  symbol  of  the  Lamb.  But  the  lamb  is 
not  the  symbol  of  the  Saviour's  earthly  life,  nor  in 
any  way  related  to  the  Good  Shepherd  of  the  cata- 
combs ;  it  is  the  Lamb  of  the  Apocalypse.  And  in 
general,  while  the  symbolism  of  the  catacombs  sets 
forth  the  saving  power  of  Christ  as  exerted  through 
the  believer's  earthly  life  and  in  the  hour  of  death, 
this  symbolism  sets  forth  the  triumph  of  the  Lamb 
that  was  slain  and  the  final  coming  of  the  Kingdom 
of  God. 

Xo  less  marked  than  the  extension  of  the  circle  of 


x]  ANTIQUE  CHRISTIAN  PAINTING  329 

subjects  was  the  change  in  the  character  and  the  ele- 
vation of  the  style  of  Christian  painting  in  the  fourth 
and  fifth  centuries.  In  catacomb  paintings,  figures 
and  features  were  indeterminate ;  now  they  have  be- 
come clear  in  type  and  individuality;  St.  Peter,  St. 
Paul,  Christ,  have  all  reached  their  typical  individual- 
ities. In  the  catacombs,  scenes  or  objects  were  occa- 
sionally depicted  for  their  own  sake,  and  not  because 
of  their  religious  significance.  An  example  of  this 
is  the  figure  of  Diogenes  the  Fossor  (digger)  in  S. 
Domitilla.  But  the  usual  purpose  of  catacomb  paint- 
ing was  to  typify  the  saving  power  of  God,  which 
should  raise  the  Christian  alive  at  the  Last  Day. 
Symbols  like  the  fish  and  anchor  were  used  in  hiero- 
glyphic fashion.  Even  in  Biblical  scenes  the  composi- 
tion appears  as  a  sign  or  a  suggestion  rather  than  a 
complete  picture  of  the  subject.  It  is  different  with 
the  mosaics  of  the  churches.  They  are  grand  and 
elaborate  compositions;  the  apparent  intention  is 
to  set  forth  the  subject  adequately  and  with  a  pic- 
torial sufficiency  of  detail.  The  lowly  simplicity 
of  the  former  time,  with  its  gentle  other-world 
calm,  is  changed  to  stately  triumph;  the  dignity  of 
Kome,  the  ceremony  of  Byzantium,  are  entering  these 
mosaics.  Naturally  the  naive  symbolism  and  sug- 
gestion of  catacomb  paintings  make  way  for  a  larger 
historical  rendering  and  a  stricter  dogmatic  pres- 
entation of  Christian  topics.  Many  of  the  simpler 
symbols  disappear;1  those  elements  of  symbolism 
and  allegory  which  are  retained  are  dogmatically 
perfected  in  forms  some  of  which  became  canonical 
i  E.g.,  the  Fish. 


330  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

in  Christian  art ; *  and  in  this  new  art  of  the  victory 
of  the  Church  the  topics  symbolized  are  chiefly  taken 
from  the  Apocalypse. 

The  productiveness  of  the  fourth  and  fifth  centuries 
in  Christian  compositions  was  extraordinary.  Many 
of  the  subjects  had  never  been  treated.  And  when  we 
consider  that  the  greatest  art  owes  to  the  art  preceding 
it  the  full  debt  of  child  to  parent,  and  that  its  noblest 
compositions  borrow  much  from  prior  designs,  then  we 
shall  realize  how  great  was  the  work  of  these  mosa- 
icists.  Was  the  artistic  source  of  this  art  Greek  or 
Latin;  did  it  flow  from  the  East  or  rise  in  the  West? 
Most  of  the  extant  monuments  are  in  Italy  —  because 
there  they  have  been  preserved.  In  the  fourth  cen- 
tury, as  previously,  in  dogma  and  the  ascetic  ideals  of 
Christian  living,  the  initiative  was  from  the  East;  the 
West  accepted  it.  In  art  also  the  initiative  was  from 
the  East,  and  was  apparently  Hellenic.  The  allegorism 
which  was  to  dominate  the  Latin  Fathers  came  from 
the  Greeks,  and  the  early  symbols,  like  the  Fish,  occur- 
ring in  the  Roman  catacombs.  It  would  also  appear 
from  the  few  scattered  remains  of  early  Christian  art 
in  the  eastern  portions  oi  the  Empire,  as  well  as  from 
descriptions  of  pictures  in  the  works  of  Basil,  Cyril  of 
Alexandria,  and  Gregory  of  ISTyssa,  that  from  the  Hel- 
lenic East  came  the  Christian  compositions  of  the 
fourth  and  fifth  centuries.2  Even  in  Italy  the  artists 
probably  were  Greeks. 

1  An  example  of  this  formal  and  dogmatic  symbolism  is  afforded 
by  the  mosaics  of  the  choir  of  St.  Vitale  in  Ravenna,  which  cele- 
brate the  sacrifice  of  the  Eucharist. 

2  See  Bayet,  Ee'cherches  pour  servir  a  Vhistoire  de  la  Peinture 
et  de  la  Sculpture  chre'tiennes  en  Orient,  Part  I,  Chaps.  I  and  II ; 


x]  ANTIQUE   CHRISTIAN  PAINTING  331 

Antique  Christian  art,  in  so  far  as  it  was  Christian, 
differed  in  its  subjects  from  pagan  art  as  the  antique 
Christian  literature  differed  from  pagan.  But  it  was 
slow  to  develop  new  aesthetic  motives  or  elements  of 
ornament,  and  it  continued  to  use  the  common  decora- 
tive designs  of  pagan  art;  nor  did  it  evolve  new  ideals  of 
human  beauty,  though  it  wrought  a  certain  desensual- 
izing  and  spiritualization  of  Greek  and  Roman  types  of 
the  human  form.  Yet  this  modification  of  types  was 
but  inchoate. 

Some  of  the  fourth  and  fifth  century  compositions 
were  of  great  excellence,  and  were  to  constitute  the 
type-pattern  which  Christian  artists  were  to  follow 
through  the  Middle  Ages  and  the  Renascence.  Yet 
the  incitement  and  directing  influence  in  their  pro- 
duction was  largely  ecclesiastical  and  dogmatic.  Theo- 
logical elements  in  them  outstrip  the  human.  The 
poetry,  the  feeling,  the  sentiment,  encircling  objects 
long  thought  upon  and  loved,  have  not  yet  come. 
These  will  germinate  and  flower  in  the  course  of 
centuries,  and  pass  over  into  art,  which  will  thereby 
be  completed  in  the  veritable  tragic  elements  of  love 
and  pity  and  terror.1     As  in  art,  so  in  literature.     The 

ib.,  Vart  Byzantin,  p.  11.  In  the  Anthology,  Bk.  I,  are  to  be  found 
a  number  of  epigrams  addressed  to  portraits  of  Christ  and  the 
archangel  Michael ;  also  epigrams  upon  the  series  of  scenes  so  fre- 
quently represented  in  painting.  These  epigrams  date  from  the 
beginning  of  the  sixth  to  the  ninth  century. 

1  The  fulness  of  feeling  and  the  charm  of  poetry  enter  Western 
Christian  art  in  the  thirteenth  century.  The  beginning  may  be 
traced  in  the  Roman  mosaics  of  the  twelfth  and  thirteenth  cen- 
turies. For  example,  the  mosaics  in  the  apse  of  S.  Maria  in  Traste- 
vere  (1140)  and  in  the  apse  of  S.  Clemente  (cir.  1150)  show  a  little 
sentiment,  a  little  poetic  feeling,  which  was  not  theological.    Yet 


332  THE   CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

fourth  and  fifth  centuries  were  the  great  creative  period 
of  dogma  and  doctrine ;  again,  hundreds  of  years  of 
human  growth  are  told  before  the  Christian  heart 
expresses  itself  in  poetry  with  a  fulness  and  power 
corresponding  to  those  truths  of  man  and  God  which 
those  early  centuries  had  rendered  definite  to  the 
Christian  mind.  In  the  fourth  and  fifth  centuries  the 
genius  of  Christianity  had  not  achieved  full  mastery 
over  the  arts  of  painting  and  poetry ;  it  had  not  fully 
penetrated  and  transformed  them  ;  as  yet  it  could  not 
adequately  express  itself  and  the  sentiments  and 
emotions  of  the  Christian  soul  through  these  noble 
mediums  of  human  expression. 

III.    Byzantine  Painting 

The  history  of  Christian  painting  and  sculpture  in 
Italy  and  the  West  after  the  fifth  century  cannot  easily 
be  divided  into  periods.  But  the  processes  can  be  dis- 
tinguished, through  which  emerged  the  art  of  the 
thirteenth  century,  Christian  in  style,  feeling,  and 
sentiment,   as  well  as  in  contents.     These  processes 

these  elements  are  still  very  faint.  They  become  more  pronounced 
in  Torriti's  "  Coronation  of  the  Virgin,"  in  the  apse  of  S.  Maria 
Maggiore  (1295),  and  still  more  in  the  lovely  mosaics  depicting  the 
Virgin's  life,  in  the  lower  zone  of  the  apse  of  S.  Maria  in  Trastevere 
(cir.  1290) ,  by  Cavallini.  One  may  say  as  to  these  mosaics,  that  the 
stags  which  drink  the  waters  of  life  have  become  eager  for  them  ; 
the  angels  are  not  only  decorative,  but  have  love  and  tears  and  pity  ; 
and  the  flowers  have  become  lovely,  have  become  even  the  "  seiutes 
rlurs  "  of  Paradise,  on  which  the  soul  of  Roland  may  repose.  The 
same  growth  of  appropriate  feeling  and  poetic  sentiment  may  be 
followed  in  the  Gothic  sculpture  of  France  and  in  the  great  advance 
of  painting  in  Italy  with  Giotto. 


x]  BYZANTINE   PAINTING  333 

are,  on  the  one  hand,  those  of  decay  and  barbariza- 
tion  as  well  as  of  intentional  discarding;  while,  on 
the  other,  they  consist  in  modes  of  human  growth  — 
the  development  of  intellect,  sentiment,  and  emotion,  the 
acquisition  of  faculty  and  knowledge,  the  maturing  of 
artistic  thought,  and  the  clarification  of  ideals. 

The  Christian  revival  of  art  in  the  fourth  and  fifth 
centuries  has  been  spoken  of.  In  the  East,  the 
artistic  centre  being  Constantinople,  this  revival  re- 
sulted in  an  art  distinct  in  style  from  the  antique. 
In  Italy  and  the  countries  of  the  West,  having  part 
in  Roman  civilization,  the  Christian  revival  of  art 
yielded  to  advancing  barbarism  and  the  prevailing 
decadence.  The  influences  of  Byzantine  art  tended 
to  preserve  the  art  of  Italy  from  barbarization  and 
to  stamp  a  certain  impress  upon  it,  until  the  artistic 
capacities  of  the  emerging  Western  culture  were  suffi- 
cient to  conquer  antique  and  Byzantine  lessons,  and 
move  on  to  the  great  religious  art  of  the  Middle 
Ages  with  its  essential  oneness  and  manifold  local 
differences. 

The  antique  style,  which  is  retained  and  ennobled 
in  the  great  mosaics  of  S.  Pudenziana  in  Rome  (fourth 
century)  and  the  mausoleum  of  Gaila  Placidia  in 
Ravenna  (fifth  century),  cannot  properly  be  called 
Roman  or  Italian.1     One  may  speak  of  Roman  archi- 

1  The  same  may  be  said  of  the  oldest  Christian  mosaics  in  Italy, 
those  of  S.  Costanza,  a  circular  memorial  church  built  and  deco- 
rated in  Constantine's  time.  Those  remaining  in  the  vault  are 
taken  from  pagan  decorative  designs.  The  decorations  of  the 
apses  are  Christian :  in  one,  God  gives  the  Old  Law  to  Moses ;  in 
the  other,  Christ  gives  the  New  Law  to  Peter  (De  Rossi.  Musaici 
Cristiani,  Fasc.  XVII.  XVIII).    These  two  compositions  have  been 


334  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

tecture;  but  painting  and  sculpture  at  Rome  were 
rather  Graeco-Roman.  They  had  come  from  Greece 
and  were  practised  by  Greeks.1  In  the  latter  years 
of  the  Eepublic  and  through  the  first  centuries  of 
the  Empire,  these  arts,  as  practised  by  Greeks  in 
the  service  of  Romans,  tended  toward  the  production 
of  types  differing  from  those  of  the  classical  art  of 
Greece  and  from  those  of  the  contemporary  art  of 
the  eastern  portions  of  the  Empire.  Greek  sculpture 
at  Rome  would  be  subject  to  special  influences  and 
would  undergo  modifications.     These   influences   are 

barbarized  through  restorations;  they  may  never  have  been  as 
good  as  the  conventional  pagan  compositions  on  the  vault.  Artists 
of  the  fourth  century,  struggling  with  new  subjects,  might  commit 
faults  not  found  in  earlier,  frequently  repeated  designs,  which  were 
merely  decorative  and  contained  no  large  drawings  of  the  human 
form.  Cf.  E.  Miintz,  Revue  Arche'ologique,  1875,  Vol.  30,  pp.  224- 
230,  273-284. 

1  Were  there  ever  any  Roman  sculptors  or  Roman  sculpture 
properly  speaking?  In  early  days  at  Rome  there  was  Etruscan  in- 
fluence. Then  came  the  Greek  wave,  and  sculpture  was  carried  on 
by  Greeks,  some  of  whom,  however,  may  have  been  born  in  Italy. 
Maxime  Collignon,  in  the  concluding  pages  of  the  second  volume 
of  his  Histoire  de  la  Sculture  Grecque,  speaks  of  sculpture  at 
Rome  at  the  beginning  of  the  Empire  as  being  entirely  in  the  hands 
of  Greeks.  See  also  Ernest  Gardner,  Handbook  of  Greek  Sculpture, 
Vol.  II,  Chap.  6.  Pliny  in  his  lists  of  sculptors  has  only  Greek  names, 
Katuralis  Historiae,  Lib.  XXXVI,  §§  9-44 ;  cf .  Jex-Blake  and  Sellers, 
Pliny's  Chapters  on  the  History  of  Art  (1896).  Schnaase,  Geschichte 
der  Bildenden  Kunste,  Vol.  II,  Chap.  4.  Nor  was  there  any  specifi- 
cally Roman  painting ;  that  was  also  Greek.  See  Schnaase,  op.  cit.t 
II,  Chap.  4 ;  Woltmann  and  TVoermann,  History  of  Painting,  Bk.  II, 
Chap.  I  et  seq.  Yet  the  opposite  view  of  Wickhoff,  Roman  Art,  is 
of  interest.  There  were  Roman  names  among  the  painters  at  Rome, 
from  the  time  of  the  curious  example  of  the  noble  Fabius  Pictor 
(303  b.c.)  onward.  Cf.  Friedlander,  Sittengeschichte  Roms,  6th  ed., 
111,300. 


x]  BYZANTINE  PAINTING  335 

plain  in  historical  relief  work  like  that  on  Trajan's 
column,  which  was  a  careful  record  of  a  conquest, 
and  again  they  are  pronounced  in  portrait  sculpture. 
The  subjects  being  Romans,  the  portraits  naturally 
showed  Roman  features.  Moreover,  the  Romans  pre- 
ferred to  be  portrayed  clothed  in  the  toga,  or  in 
armor,  rather  than  nude,  which  would  have  suited 
the  Greek  taste :  Graeca  res  est  nihil  velare,  at  contra 
Romana  ac  militaris  thoraca  addere,  says  Pliny.1  In 
the  East  these  influences  would  rarely  operate,  or  these 
Roman  modifications  occur. 

An  artist  tends  to  reproduce  what  he  sees  and  what 
he  is ;  what  he  is,  is  affected  by  his  environment.  At 
Rome  and  in  Italy  painting  as  well  as  sculpture,  by 
whomsoever  practised,  tended  to  differ  from  the  art 
of  the  East,  where  scenes  and  people  were  Greek  and 
oriental.  The  Pompeian  frescoes  afford  an  example. 
They  are  Greek  works,  yet  are  touched  by  the  Italian 
landscape  and  by  Italian  taste  and  the  Italian  type  of 
human  form  and  feature.  The  subjects  were  taken 
from  myth  and  legend ;  often  the  pictures  were  repro- 
ductions of  classic  Greek  compositions.  But  the  hu- 
man types  in  them  seem  to  differ  generically  from  the 
group  of  Greek  portraits  discovered  at  Fayoum  in 
Egypt.2  In  fine,  during  the  first  centuries  of  the 
Empire,  painting  in  Italy  was  Greek,  yet  affected  by 
the  influences  of  its  environment. 


1  Xat.  Hist.  f  XXXIV,  18.  The  imperial  statue  of  Augustus  in 
the  Vatican  is  an  example  of  this. 

3  Certain  pictures  at  Pompeii  seem  to  have  been  portraits.  See 
Marriott,  "  Family  Portraits  at  Pompeii,''  The  Archaeological  Jour- 
nal, 1897.    These  also  are  Roman  in  type. 


336  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

Making  allowance  for  these  differences  in  types,  in 
the  fourth  and  fifth  centuries  painting  was  still  one 
art,  having  substantially  one  and  the  same  style 
throughout  the  Empire.  There  is  no  reason  to  suppose 
that  in  Italy  it  did  not  continue  in  the  hands  of 
Greeks,  who  would  there  have  produced  the  same  kinds 
of  religious  pictures  as  at  Constantinople.1  These 
were  the  centuries  when  Christian  mosaics  reached 
the  zenith  of  their  excellence,  as  for  instance  in  the 
church  of  S.  Pudenziana  and  the  mausoleum  of 
Galla  Placidia.  Nothing  in  these  compositions  dis- 
tinguishes them  stylistically  from  paintings  previ- 
ously executed  in  Italy  under  pagan  patronage,  save 
their  great  excellence  due  to  the  revival  of  art  under 
Christian  inspiration.  However,  in  tracing  the  course 
of  that  revival  in  those  seats  where  it  longest  endured 
and  produced  most  distinctive  results,  we  shall  also 
be  tracing  the  development  of  Byzantine  art.  Eonie 
was  no  longer  the  centre  of  power ;  and  after  Alaric 
captured  the  city  in  410,  her  great  name  gave  no  sense 
of  security  to  her  inhabitants.  The  safest  place  in 
Italy  was  Eavenna,  lying  surrounded  by  marshes  near 
the  Adriatic.  There  Honorius  fixed  the  imperial 
court  of  the  West  in  404.  Eavenna,  being  the  seat 
of  government,  was  the  city  in  closest  touch  with 
Constantinople,  the  Eastern  seat  of  empire.  In 
consequence  of  all  these  circumstances  the  most  beauti- 
ful mosaics  of  the  fifth  century  are  to  be  found  at 
Eavenna,  adorning  the  mausoleum  of  that  same  ener- 
getic princess  whose  beneficence  adorned  with  mosaics 

1  The  reliefs  of  the  doors  of  S.  Sabina  on  the  Aventine  were 
probably  executed  in  the  fifth  century  by  Greek  artists. 


x]  BYZANTINE  PAINTING  337 

the  triumphal  arch  of  S.  Paulo  Fuori  at  Rome.  And 
it  is  at  Ravenna  that  this  art  most  distinctly  discloses 
the  development  of  a  definite  style  which  gradually 
shows  itself  Byzantine.  Yet  artistically  Ravenna  was 
less  than  Constantinople.  If  the  Adriatic  city  was 
wealthy,  powerful,  and  secure,  the  city  on  the  Bos- 
phorus  surpassed  her  in  safety,  power,  and  wealth. 
And  Constantinople  was  more  fully  Greek  than  Ra- 
venna, and  was  possessed  of  a  store  of  Greek  art  with 
which  her  founder  had  endowed  her.  But  the  evolu- 
tion of  the  Byzantine  style  in  mosaics  can  no  longer 
be  traced  in  the  plundered  city  of  the  Bosphorus  ; 
while  in  grass-grown  Ravenna  may  yet  be  seen  the 
progress  from  the  renewed  and  ennobled  antique  art  of 
the  fifth  century  to  the  Byzantine  style  of  Justinian's 
time,  which  later  will  show  Byzantine  characteristics 
hardening  to  faults. 

The  decorations  of  the  Mausoleum  and  of  S.  Gio- 
vanni in  Fonti  represent  the  culmination  at  Ravenna 
of  the  Christian  revival  of  art,  which  in  Rome  fifty 
years  before  had  culminated  in  the  great  mosaic  of 
S.  Pudenziana.  As  yet  the  Ravenna  mosaics  show 
no  specific  Byzantine  traits.1  A  next  stage  is  repre- 
sented by  the  mosaics  of  S.  Apollinaris  Nuovo,  built 
by  Theodoric  about  the  year  500.  Those  in  the  upper 
part  of  the  nave  narrate  the  miracles  and  incidents  of 
Christ's  life.     They  are  better  compositions  than  the 

1  Besides  the  noble  composition  of  Christ  as  the  Good  Shepherd 
amid  his  sheep,  the  Mausoleum  contains  (among  other  pictures)  an 
early  and  idealized  representation  of  a  martyrdom.  St.  Lawrence 
bearing  a  cross  advances  toward  the  gridiron  set  on  a  bed  of  flames  ; 
the  picture  shows  no  torture,  suggests  no  pain,  but  only  the  triumph 
of  the  martyr's  faith. 
z 


338  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

historical  series  from  the  Old  Testament  in  the  nave 
of  S.  Maria  Maggiore  at  Rome ;  and  they  show  some 
slight  tendency  toward  the  formal  symmetry  which 
was  to  characterize  Byzantine  art.  This  is  more  pro- 
nounced in  the  procession  of  saints  and  angels  which 
moves  along  the  architraves  above  the  columns  of  the 
nave  to  meet  in  the  triumph  of  the  tribuna.  In  this 
grave  and  stately  composition  appears  moreover  the 
ceremonialism  which  also  was  to  be  characteristic  of 
Byzantine  art.  Yet  a  third  stage  is  represented  by 
the  mosaics  of  S.  Yitale,  the  work  of  the  first  years  of 
the  Exarchate  (cir.  550)  in  Justinian's  time.  These 
magnificent  decorations  develop  certain  Byzantine 
types,  as,  for  instance,  of  angels  ;  in  the  choir  the 
sacrifice  of  the  eucharist  is  represented  in  the  Old 
Testament  incidents  prefiguring  it.  A  ceremonial  and 
dogmatic  symbolism  appears,  while  ceremonialism  of 
another  kind  is  shown  in  the  representation  of  the 
Emperor  Justinian  and  the  Empress  Theodora.  These 
characteristics  —  dogmatic  symbolism,  ceremonialism, 
formal  symmetry  —  stiffen  and  become  monotonous, 
while  the  figures  lose  their  beauty,  in  the  incipient 
decadence  of  the  mosaics  in  S.  Apollinaris  in  Classe.1 
At  Rome,  also,  certain  mosaics  of  the  fifth,  sixth, 
and  seventh  centuries  show  traces  of  the  style  which 
is  becoming  Byzantine,  though  this  evolution  is  less 
clearly  marked  than  at  Ravenna.  Possibly  the  mosaics 
on  the  triumphal  arch  of  S.  Maria  Maggiore  of  the  first 
part  of  the  fifth  century  show  a  Byzantinismo  incipiente,2 

1  The  church  was  built  soon  after  S.  Yitale;    but  the  extant 
mosaics  referred  to  in  the  text  date  from  the  seventh  century. 

2  De  Rossi. 


x]  BYZANTINE  PAINTING  339 

which  does  not  appear  in  the  somewhat  earlier 
mosaics  of  the  nave.  In  the  impressive  apse  mosaic 
of  SS.  Cosmo  and  Damiano  (sixth  century)  there 
is  something  not  inherited  from  the  antique  style, 
something  which  possible  traces  of  the  lineaments 
of  the  northern  barbarians  will  hardly  account  for. 
The  draperies  of  the  individual  figures  are  not  so 
very  hard,  nor  their  attitudes  so  very  stiff;  but  a 
symmetry  like  the  Byzantine  controls  the  composition 
as  a  whole.1  Possibly  the  mosaics  in  the  arch  of  S. 
Lorenzo  (578-590)  and  in  the  apse  of  S.  Agnese 
Fuori,  of  about  the  same  time,  show  clearer  traces  of 
the  transition  from  the  antique  to  the  Byzantine.  The 
calamities  of  Italy  from  war,  pestilence,  and  famine  in 
the  seventh  century  were  contemporary  with  a  lessen- 
ing of  Eastern  influence.  In  consequence,  art  rapidly 
declined,  sinking  to  its  lowest  level  in  the  eighth  cen- 
tury. The  ninth  brings  a  renewed  activity  at  Rome, 
yet  the  mosaics  show  ignorance  and  incapacity,2  and  a 
barbarism  which  seems  just  touched  by  the  Byzantine 
style. 

Apart  from  the  influences  which  may  be  called 
Byzantine,  no   new   style   of   sculpture,  painting,  or 

1  De  Rossi,  Musaici  Cristiani,  in  the  text  accompanying  the 
reproduction  of  this  mosaic,  says:  "  Esso  segna  un  passo  notabile 
del  processo  piii  o  nieno  lento,  che  l'antica  arte  cristiana  transformb 
nella  cosi  detta  bizantina.  La  monotona  e  dura  simmetria  della 
composizione  e  difetto  dominante  ..." 

2  This  decay  appears  strikingly  upon  comparing  the  apse  mosaic 
of  SS.  Cosmo  and  Damiano  (sixth  century)  with  the  degenerate 
imitation  of  it  in  the  Church  of  S.  Praxede  (ninth  century).  The 
mosaics  on  the  triumphal  arch  of  SS.  Nereo  ed  Achilleo  (cir.  800) 
and  in  the  apse  of  S.  Cecilia  in  Trastevere  (ninth  century)  also 
show  art  at  a  low  level. 


340  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

mosaics  was  developed  in  Italy  during  the  centuries 
under  consideration.  The  analogy  of  architecture 
bears  indirect  testimony  to  this.  Under  the  Republic 
and  during  the  first  two  centuries  of  the  Empire,  the 
Roman  genius  was  creative  in  architecture,  but  not 
even  then  in  painting  or  sculpture.  Upon  the  con- 
version of  the  Empire  the  basilica  type,  which  had 
become  Roman,  maintained  itself  in  Italy.  But  Roman 
Christian  basilicas  show  no  architectural  development 
from  the  time  of  their  first  construction.  The  East, 
however,  can  show  the  evolution  of  a  distinct  Christian 
architecture  culminating  in  S.  Sophia. 

Thus  the  influences  which  promote  the  development 
of  a  distinct  style  in  Italy,  and  also  tend  to  retard  the 
barbarization  of  art,  are  Greek,  and  are  continually 
recruited  from  the  East.  Naturally  they  reflect  the 
course  of  art  at  Constantinople  and  other  Eastern 
cities.  The  general  features  of  Byzantine  art  in  its 
Eastern  home  may  be  summarized  as  follows:  The 
antique  survived,  potent  and  moulding;  Christian 
schools  of  painting  and  mosaic  appropriated  the  an- 
tique, and  also  departed  from  it  in  modes  which  do 
not  represent  decadence,  but  the  evolution  of  a  dis- 
tinct style  —  a  style,  however,  not  original  and  new,  for 
the  race  was  mature,  and  the  classic  heritage  was  over- 
powering. This  art  shows  no  spontaneity  of  youth 
and  scant  faculty  of  drawing  new  artistic  truth  from 
nature.  Non-Hellenic  elements  from  Syria,  from  Per- 
sia, from  the  East  indefinitely,  seem  also  to  have 
affected  the  development  of  Byzantine  art.  That  art 
took  to  itself  the  ceremony  of  the  Byzantine  court, 
which   sought   to   elevate   the   Emperor    above   man- 


x]  BYZANTINE   PAINTING  341 

kind.  If  this  was  Asiatic  in  part,  it  had  begun  with 
Diocletian.  At  all  events,  ceremonialism,  passing 
into  art,  conduced  to  the  hardening  of  certain  in- 
herited Hellenic  principles,  —  for  example,  the  prin- 
ciple of  symmetry.  Classical  art  had  reached  the 
pliant  symmetry  of  life.  In  Byzantine  art  the  sym- 
metry of  life  gives  place  to  a  formal  arrangement  of 
figures. 

In  harmony  with  its  ceremonialism,  and  following 
the  spirit  of  the  Greek  formulation  of  Christianity  in 
dogma,  Byzantine  art  presents  a  dogmatic  orthodoxy. 
This  appears  in  its  symbolism,  which  is  systematized 
and  made  strictly  to  conform  to  the  doctrines  of  the 
Church.  It  also  appears  in  the  representations  of 
Christ  and  the  Virgin.  There  is  no  mistaking  the 
divine  nature  of  the  Byzantine  Christ  —  he  is  ever 
v7repov(TLo<;,  as  in  the  great  hymn  of  Bomanos  ;  and  the 
Virgin  is  ever  Ocotokv,  the  mother  of  God.  Byzantine 
images  of  Christ  and  his  mother  differ  from  those  of 
mediaeval  Western  art  as  the  same  poet's  Hymn  of 
the  Virgin  at  the  Cross  differs  from  the  Stabat  Ma- 
ter. One  may  not  seek  in  them  the  humanity  of 
the  God-man.  The  Sufferer  is  not  in  Byzantine  art, 
nor  does  the  Madonna  weep  for  a  crucified  Son.  The 
symbols  attached  to  the  images  of  Christ  signify  un- 
mistakably the  God.  No  nature  less  than  absolute 
divinity  might  bear  the  great  crossed  nimbus,  whereon 
the  letters  Alpha  and  Omega  declare  that  this  is  He 
who  was  before  all  time  and  is  eternal — in  whose 
eternity  the  earthly  episodes  of  Jesus'  life  are  but  a 
point.  These  are  images  of  God  the  Son  rather  than 
of  the  Son  of  God. 


342  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

Byzantine  art  has  greatness.  Its  stately  mosaic 
compositions  are  magnificently  decorative,  harmoniz- 
ing with  the  forms  and  functions  of  the  architecture 
they  adorn,  admirably  suited  for  the  sufficient  orna- 
mentation of  edifices  containing  little  sculpture.  Their 
grace  is  not  that  of  Nature's  lithe  pliancy,  but  the  gra- 
cious stateliness  of  forms  that  move  without  move- 
ment, rhythmic  elements  of  great  church  decoration. 
Beautiful  colors  are  combined  in  balanced  schemes 
showing  a  genius  for  color  values,  which  may  have 
come  from  the  East  and  not  have  been  a  classic  heri- 
tage. The  drawing  and  coloring  of  the  figures  display 
the  architecturally  beautifying  effect  of  colored  com- 
position to  a  degree  which  Gothic  stained  glass  win- 
dows surpass  only  through  their  sun-lit  translucency. 
Each  figure  is  religiously  appropriate  and  decoratively 
beautiful.  The  majesty  of  Christ  is  unimpeached, 
the  gracious  dignity  of  God's  mother  unexcelled. 
Angelic  forms  are  not  debased  by  any  striving  after 
naturalism  in  the  representation  of  what  is  not  of 
this  earth.  Their  wings  are  of  surpassing  beauty, 
not  made  to  fly  with,  but  drawn  to  symbolize  the 
celerity  with  which  the  angelic  nature  does  the  will 
of  God.1 

In  the  sixth  century  Byzantine  art  develops  its 
characteristics  and  reaches  the  summit  of  its  excel- 
lence. This  is  true  in  miniature  painting,  in  mosaics 
(S.  Vitale),  in  architecture  (S.  Sophia),  even  in  sculp- 
ture.    A  few  existing  Byzantine  capitals  of  this  period 

1  See  the  Celestial  Hierarchy,  Chap.  XV.  Bayet,  Re'cherches, 
etc.,  says  that  the  Byzantine  type  of  angel  was  formed  at  the  time 
when  the  writings  of  the  Areopagite  became  known  in  the  East. 


x]  BYZANTINE   PAINTING  343 

show  sculpture  truly  sculpturesque,  as  well  as  natural 
in  its  reproduction  of  vine  leaves  and  animals,  although 
the  aversion  to  human  images  has  weakened  the  carv- 
ing of  the  human  figure.1  Byzantine  sculpture,  how- 
ever, soon  ceased  to  observe  nature ;  its  foliage  became 
conventional,  its  animals  fantastic.  Except  in  ivory 
work,  sculpture  did  not  flourish  with  the  Byzantines. 
Even  in  the  best  period,  the  characteristic  type  of  the 
Byzantine  column  is  that  of  S.  Sophia  or  S.  Vitale, 
where  the  carving  is  mainly  designing  by  incision.2 

In  the  century  after  Justinian's  death,  disasters  be- 
fell the  Eastern  Empire,  and  a  decline  in  art  set  in. 
Leo  the  Isaurian  inaugurated  the  iconoclastic  conflict 
in  726 ;  that  lasted  with  varying  fortunes  till  the  mid- 
dle of  the  ninth  century.3  Sometimes  the  reform- 
ing iconoclasts  were  in  power ;  again  the  monks  and 
all  the  hosts  of  image-worshippers  gained  ascendency. 
The  latter  finally  won  the  day,  and,  soon  after,  the 
line  of  Macedonian  emperors  came  to  the  throne,  to 
retain  it  for  two  centuries  (867-1057),  during  which 
the  Eastern  Empire  prospered  and  art  flourished.  But 
this  period  is  less  progressive  than  that  of  the  first 
development  of  Byzantine  art,  which  culminates  in 
Justinian's  reign.      Many  typical  sacred  compositions 

1  Strzygowski,  Byzan.  Zeitschrift,  1892,  p.  574,  etc.,  especially 
pp.  582  and  589. 

2  Strzygowski,  Byz.  Denkmdler,  I,  p.  10,  says  that  the  Byzantine 
basket  capital  is  evolved  from  Theodosian  capitals  (eine  UmbU- 
dung) ;  the  basket  takes  the  place  of  the  acanthus  leaves,  and  ani- 
mals replace  the  volutes. 

3  A  barren  period  (650-850  a.d.)  in  Byzantine  literature  corre- 
sponds to  this  period  of  decline  in  Byzantine  art,  Krumbacher,  Ges. 
der  Byz.  Lit.,  2d  ed.,  p.  12. 


344  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

had  become  fixed  by  the  time  of  that  Emperor's  death ; * 
and  between  the  sixth  and  the  ninth  century  artistic 
precedent,  ecclesiastical  precept,  and  the  decrees  of 
councils 2  had  combined  to  render  sacred  painting  im- 
mutable.3 At  length  all  sacred  compositions  were 
arranged  and  embodied  in  manuals  from  the  injunc- 
tions of  which  the  artists  ceased  to  have  the  will  or 
power  to  depart.4 

These  remarks  suggest  the  modes  in  which  Byzan- 
tine art  declined  after  the  eleventh  century.  Its  orig- 
inative power  decayed ;  its  technique  and  decorative 
qualities  survived  for  a  period;  then  they  also  de- 
clined.     Decline  became  irretrievable  ruin  when  the 

1  For  example,  the  painting  of  the  Arian  baptistry  in  Ravenna 
(S.  Maria  in  Cosmedin)  of  Theodoric's  time  copies  that  of  the 
orthodox  baptistry  (S.  Giovanni  in  Fonti). 

2  The  second  Nicene  council,  held  under  the  auspices  of  the 
Empress  Irene  in  787,  decreed  the  adoration  of  images.  It  recog- 
nized the  eighty-second  canon  of  the  council  of  Trullo  (692  a.d)  , 
directing  that  Christ  should  be  represented  under  his  human  form 
rather  than  by  a  symbol  (see  Labbe,  Concilia,  ed.  by  Coletus 
(Venice,  1729),  Vol.  VIII,  col.  813,  814,  881,  882).  The  second  Ni- 
cene council  also  recognized  that  these  sacred  images  should  not 
be  regarded  as  the  design  of  the  artist,  but  as  embodying  the 
authoritative  tradition  of  the  Church.  Of  course,  if  images  were 
to  be  adored,  —  as  they  were  through  the  Middle  Ages  in  the  East 
and  West,  —  their  fashioning  could  not  be  left  to  the  caprice  of  the 
artist. 

3  Miniatures  naturally  preserved  more  freedom  than  church 
mosaics;  see  Kondakoff,  op.  cit.,  Chap.  VI. 

4  The  reference  is  to  the  famous  manuscript  discovered  by  Didron 
at  Mt.  Athos,  and  frequently  described  and  referred  to  in  works 
upon  Byzantine  painting.  It  may  be  as  late  as  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury, and  may  describe  compositions  unknown  to  the  earlier  art. 
But  on  the  whole  its  directions  correspond  to  the  remains  of  Byzan- 
tine painting,  and  probably  embody  traditions  from  the  times  when 
typical  compositions  first  became  recognized  conventions. 


x]  BYZANTINE  PAINTING  345 

Crusaders  captured  the  Capital  in  1204.  Up  to  the 
eve  of  that  destruction  Constantinople  was  incom- 
parably the  most  splendid  city  of  Europe,  a  city  mar- 
vellous, incredible,  in  art  and  splendor  greater  than 
all  other  cities,  according  to  Villehardouin,  who  par- 
ticipated in  its  destruction.1  Before  then  its  art  had 
done  its  work  of  instruction  in  Italy  and  the  West, 
carrying  its  suggestions  of  technique  and  skill,  and 
offering  as  models  its  conventional  and  stately,  its 
beautifying  and  somewhat  lifeless  compositions.2 

In  Italy,  as  already  noticed,  in  the  seventh  and 
eighth  centuries,  when  Byzantine  influences  are  weak- 
est, art  touches  its  lowest  level.  Yet  traces  of  Byzan- 
tine work  or  suggestion  at  no  time  entirely  disappear. 
With  the  eighth  century,  especially  in  northern  Italy, 
special  barbaric  (Lombard)  elements  enter,  which  do 
not  represent  mere  barbarization  of  the  existing  styles, 
but  the  beginnings  of  new  styles.  For  example,  the 
Baptistry  at  Cividale  in  Friuli  (cir.  750)  is  one  of  the 
first  instances  of  animal  carving  which  was  to  character- 
ize Bomanesque  sculpture;  and  in  the  tenth  century 
the  vaulted  Lombard  architecture  takes  its  beginning 
under  the  influence  of  the  Italo-Byzantine  style.3 

Magna   Graecia   of    old  had  included   Apulia,   the 

1  See  Conquete  de  Constantinople,  §  128;  in  one  of  the  confla- 
grations of  the  siege  more  houses  were  burnt  than  there  were  in  the 
three  largest  cities  in  France ;  ib.,  §  247. 

2  "Dans  l'histoire  de  la  civilisation  au  moyen  age  avant  le  XIe 
siecle,  Byzance  a  eu  un  role  analogue  a  celui  d'Athenes  et  de  Rome 
dans  l'antiquite,  a  celui  de  Paris  dans  les  temps  modernes.  Elle  a 
rayonne  sur  le  monde  entier;  elle  a  ete  la  Yille  par  excellence." 
Bayet,  in  Lavisse  et  Rambaud's  Histoire  Gen^rale,  Vol.  I,  p.  682. 

3  Cf.  Cattaneo,  L'architettura  in  Italia,  Chaps.  I,  II,  and  III. 


346  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

Terra  d'Otranto,  and  Calabria.  These  Greek  countries 
were  conquered  by  the  Romans  in  the  third  century 
before  Christ,  and  thereafter  were  thoroughly  Latin- 
ized. They  remained  Latin  for  centuries.  From 
Justinian's  time  they  formed  part  of  the  Eastern 
Empire ;  but  the  Latin  and  Italian  character  of  their 
civilization  was  not  affected  before  the  iconoclastic 
conflict.  Its  opening  found  them  under  the  ecclesias- 
tical jurisdiction  of  the  Roman  See.  Leo  the  Isau- 
rian  transferred  them  to  the  jurisdiction  of  the 
Patriarch  of  Constantinople.  The  Emperor  made 
slight  effort  to  suppress  images  in  his  Italian  prov- 
inces ;  but  he  and  his  successors  zealously  pressed  the 
adoption  of  the  Greek  language  and  the  ritual  of  the 
Eastern  Church.  Quite  as  effectively  the  re-Helleni- 
zation  of  these  lands  was  promoted  by  the  bitterest 
opponents  of  the  iconoclastic  emperors,  the  Eastern 
monks  who  fled  in  multitudes  to  provinces  where 
images  were  not  suppressed.  They  brought  their 
ritual,  their  language,  customs,  and  painting  with 
them.  Not  many  generations  passed  before  the  Greek 
language  and  ritual,  as  well  as  Byzantine  painting, 
gained  ascendency  in  Calabria  and  Otranto,  if  not  in 
Apulia.  In  the  eleventh  century  the  Greek  governors 
were  driven  out  by  the  Normans.  These  masters  of 
Hellenized  subjects  were  themselves  among  the  last 
of  many  conquerors   captivated  by   captive   Greece.1 

1  The  Saracenic  influence  is  also  marked ;  see  Choisy,  Hlstoire 
de  V architecture,  II,  134-138;  Clausse,  Basiliques  et  Mosaiques,  II, 
524.  In  Sicily  —  at  Palermo,  Monreale,  and  Cephalii  —  the  architec- 
ture (twelfth  century)  is  Norman  and  Saracenic  as  much  as  Byzan- 
tine, but  the  mosaics  (twelfth  century)  are  mainly  Byzantine.  The 
sculpture  of  animals  and  human  beings,  as  in  the  capitals  of  the 


x]  BYZANTINE   PAINTING  347 

Not  until  the  middle  of  the  thirteenth  century,  the 
time  of  Frederic  II,  does  Hellenism  —  and  Orientalism 
—  finally  disappear  before  the  Italian  spirit.1  South- 
ern Italy  still  contains  many  Byzantine  paintings 
executed  between  the  ninth  and  the  twelfth  century. 

Byzantine  art  is  dominant  in  the  south  of  Italy, 
and  also  in  the  northeast,  where  Venice  and  Torcello 
succeed  Bavenna.2  Yet  even  in  southern  Italy  quite 
another  art  appears,  barbarized  and  yet  incipiently 
Italian.  The  superiority  of  Greek  workmen  was 
recognized.  In  the  year  1070  Abbot  Didier  of  Monte 
Cassino  imported  a  colony  of  them.  But  again,  as  in 
the  days  of  the  Caesars,  Greek  art  in  Italy  becomes 
partially  Italianized.  The  artists  who  revived  mosaics 
at  Rome  in  the  eleventh  and  twelfth  centuries  kept  to 
Byzantine  types  of  composition  and  yet  clothed  their 
sacred  figures,  except  the  Virgin,  in  Roman  costume 
and  according  to  the  Roman  ritual.  Their  purely 
decorative  designs  imitate  the  ancient  mosaics  of  the 
fourth  to  the  sixth  century.  But  in  the  twelfth 
century,  art  in  Italy  was  not,  as  in  the  days  of  the 
Caesars,  to  stop  with  a  mere  Italianizing  of  the  Greek. 
Italy  was  reawakening ;  she  was  to  renew  her  youth 
and  then  her  manhood  ;  but  it  was  a  new  youth  and 
a  new  manhood.     New  racial  elements  now  made  part 

cloister  of  the  Monreale  cathedral,  may  perhaps  be  regarded  as 
Norman;  but  there  are  many  carved  Saracenic  and  Byzantine 
designs. 

1  A  considerable  knowledge  of  Greek  continued  in  these  coun- 
tries through  the  Middle  Ages  to  the  Renaissance,  and  in  sections 
of  Calabria  and  the  Terra  d'Otranto,  Greek  is  still  spoken.  See 
Fr.  Lenormant,  La  Grande  Grece,  Vol.  II,  pp.  372-433. 

2  Ravenna  was  lost  to  the  Eastern  Empire  in  the  eighth  century. 


348  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

of  the  Italian  people ;  new  inspirations  had  come  to 
them,  and  new  faculties  were  ripening.  Pictures 
having  more  distinctive  Italian  traits  were  painted. 
Italy  was  now  to  be  the  sun  of  art  herself,  and  no 
mere  mirror  to  the  Greek. '  Her  own  genius  had 
reached  the  stage  where,  having  used  its  Byzantine 
lessons,  it  could  overcome  and  pass  beyond  them. 
Her  art  remembers  its  past  knowledge,  yet  turns  from 
precedent  to  life.  The  artists  begin  once  more  to 
bring  nature  into  art.  With  Cimabue  art  is  neither 
barbarous  nor  Byzantine.  T\'ith  Giotto  and  Ducio  art 
is  Italian ;  it  is  national  and  great,  as  once  had  been 
the  art  of  Greece.1 

IV.    The  Antique  in  JMediceval  Art 

The  art  of  pagan  antiquity  is  carried  over  to  the 
Middle  Ages  through  the  Christian  antique  art  of 
Italy  and  the  Romanized  countries  of  western  Europe, 
and  through  the  art  called  Byzantine.  Aside  from  its 
novel  subjects,  the  antique  Christian  art  is  first  an 
humble  branch,  then  a  revival  and  ennoblement,  and 
finally  a  barbarization  of  pagan  art.  In  the  East, 
pagan  art  is  distinctly  altered  in  its  Christian  use,  and 
there  results  a  definite  new  style,  the  Byzantine.  As 
may  readily  be  imagined,  the  question  of  the  debt  and 
relationship  of  mediaeval  to  antique  art  is  complicated 

1  Speaking  of  Torriti's  mosaics  (1295)  in  the  apse  of  S.  Maria 
Maggiore,  and  of  the  contemporary  work  of  Cavallini  in  the  lower 
zone  of  the  apse  of  Sta.  Mar.  in  Trastevere,  De  Rossi  says  both  rep- 
resent "  la  scuola  italiana  ancora  pregna  dello  tradizione  dell'  arte 
greca,  ma  nella  sua  transizione  al  nuovo  stile,  del  quale  Giotto  era 
aUora  famoso  maestro  ed  iniziatore." 


x]  THE   ANTIQUE   IN   MEDIEVAL   ART  349 

by  many  considerations.  Yet  definite  antique  influ. 
ences  upon  mediaeval  art  may  be  pointed  out,  as  well 
as  the  survival  of  antique  themes  in  the  art  of  the 
Middle  Ages.  The  evolution  of  mediaeval  sculpture 
and  painting  is  analogous  to  that  of  mediaeval  archi- 
tecture, and  the  three  branches  of  art  present  some 
broad  analogies  to  the  history  of  mediaeval  literature. 

From  the  time  of  their  first  appearance  the  northern 
races  possessed  certain  artistic  faculties,  they  built 
primitive  structures,  they  carved  and  they  painted. 
As  they  came  in  contact  with  Roman  civilization  and 
were  converted  to  Christianity,  their  building,  their 
carving  and  painting,  were  brought  into  comparison 
with  the  art  and  methods  of  the  antique.  They 
adopted  the  antique  forms  of  church,  architecture. 
But  the  antique  Christian  basilica  at  Rome  was  con- 
structed according  to  Roman  methods  out  of  material 
at  hand  in  Rome  and  the  vicinity.  The  northern 
peoples  did  not  have  the  materials  for  concrete,  and 
could  not  apply  Roman  methods,  although  they 
adopted  the  plan  of  the  basilica.  Hence  an  initial 
modification  in  methods  of  construction,  while  the 
plan  of  the  basilica  was  adopted.  Through  the  needs 
of  mediaeval  churches  and  the  necessities  and  possi- 
bilities of  northern  methods  of  construction,  the  partly 
borrowed  and  transitional  Romanesque  styles  were 
developed,  and  at  last  the  full  originality  of  the 
Gothic. 

In  sculpture  and  painting,  as  in  architecture,  the 
native  traits  and  faculties  of  these  northern  peoples 
affected  their  appreciation  and  appropriation  of  the 
Christian-antique  and   the   Byzantine    styles.      Their 


350  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

own  methods  of  decoration  were  not  entirely  aban- 
doned ;  but  the  art  and  civilization  to  which  they 
were  being  introduced  were  so  much  greater  than 
their  own,  that  their  own  art  tended  to  succumb. 
North  and  west  of  the  Alps,  in  the  early  Middle 
Ages,  the  antique  was  imitated  and  modified  accord- 
ing to  the  character  of  the  people  and  the  capacities 
of  the  artist.  New  styles  developed  as  the  builders 
and  artists  of  France,  Germany,  and  England  reached 
the  level  of  what  they  had  borrowed  from  antiquity 
and  passed  on  along  paths  of  their  own  invention. 

Italy  was  the  home  of  the  antique  and  was  more 
generally  subject  to  Byzantine  influence  than  any 
northern  land.  In  spite  of  foreign  admixtures,  its 
inhabitants  were  largely  descendants  of  the  antique 
races.  Naturally  the  antique  and  Byzantine  main- 
tained a  longer  and  more  complete  dominance  in  Italy 
than  in  the  north,  just  as  the  Italian  language  was 
slower  than  the  French  in  asserting  its  literary  dig- 
nity as  against  the  Latin. 

The  Carolingian  period  represents  in  the  north  the 
dominance  of  the  antique  and  the  Byzantine  in  art. 
Charlemagne's  reign  was  a  titanic  labor  for  order 
and  civilization,  and  for  the  extension  of  Christianity 
and  the  suppression  of  superstitious  practices  attached 
to  it.  The  antique  literature  and  knowledge,  the 
antique  arts,  the  Boman  civil  and  political  forms, 
were  the  quarry  whence  the  Emperor  and  his  minis- 
ters could  draw.  Kome  was  also  the  preeminent 
source  of  Christianity  for  all  the  peoples  of  the  north. 
Any  struggle  for  order  and  civilization  in  this  period 
had  to  draw  upon  the  only  civilization  and  order  then 


x]  THE   ANTIQUE   IN   MEDIAEVAL   ART  351 

known  in  western  Europe,  that  of  the  Roman  Empire. 
But  Charlemagne  did  not  ignore  the  elements  of  cul- 
ture and  strength  in  his  own  peoples.  He  had  the 
German  poems  collected  and  preserved.  Neverthe- 
less, the  literature  of  the  time  was  Latin,  and  showed 
a  distinct  striving  after  antique  metre  and  form.  In 
fine,  Charlemagne's  struggle  for  a  better  culture  and 
civilization  could  hardly  avoid  taking  the  form  of  an 
attempted  revival  of  the  antique.  This  was  recognized 
by  the  Emperor  and  by  those  familiar  with  his  policy. 
Eginhard  writes  that  Charlemagne's  ceaseless  en- 
deavor was  to  restore  the  supremacy  of  Rome ; x  like 
thoughts  are  prominent  in  the  poetry  of  the  period ; 

Aurea  Boma  interum  renovata  renascitur  orbi.2 

These  ideas  were  probably  vague  and  confused ;  Egin- 
hard's  Latin  does  not  convey  a  clear  meaning,  and 
the  poet's  line  expresses  but  a  fancied  ideal.  Yet 
such  thoughts  reached  their  reality  in  the  actual  domi- 
nation of  the  antique  in  the  literature  and  art  of  the 
ninth  century. 

At  this  time  the  interiors  of  churches  were  covered 
with  paintings,  a  custom  coming  from  the  antique 
Christian  mosaic  and  fresco  decoration.  Charle- 
magne's Capitularies  provide  for  the  renovation  of 
churches,  including  their  decorations.  The  imperial 
decrees  suggest  an  artistic  activity,  which,  in  fact, 
existed.  The  Emperor,  however,  expressed  himself 
with  no  uncertain  voice  against  the  worship  of  images. 
Carolingian  architecture  consisted  in  the  use  and  ex- 

1  Vita  Caroli,  Cap.  27. 

2  Haso?iis  Ecloga,  Diimmler,  Poet.  Lat.  Aev.  Car.,  I,  385. 


352  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

tension  of  antique  Roman  Christian  or  Byzantine 
forms ;  for  example,  the  royal  chapel  at  Aix-la-Chapelle 
was  built  upon  the  model  of  S.  Vitale.  No  large 
sculpture  comes  down  from  the  time  of  Charlemagne ; 
but  the  ivory  carving  copies  or  imitates  Byzantine  or 
antique  Christian  models.  The  painted  church  decora- 
tion followed  the  antique,  and  continued  and  also  ex- 
tended the  cycle  of  antique  Christian  subjects.  In 
this  church  decoration,  as  well  as  in  the  miniatures, 
Byzantine  and  Syrian  influence  made  itself  felt  through 
the  ninth  century.  In  at  least  one  respect,  however, 
miniature  painting  significantly  departed  from  the  an- 
tique. Instead  of  antique  idyllic  motives,  it  shows  a 
veritable  Teutonic  and  mediaeval  interest  in  war  and 
fighting.  Also  Celtic  (Irish)  and  German  motives 
appear  in  the  purely  decorative  patterns  of  the 
manuscript  illumination. 

Thus  the  architecture,  sculpture,  and  painting  of  the 
Carolingian  age  are  in  the  main  a  continuance  or 
reproduction  of  the  Christian  antique  and  the  Byzan- 
tine. The  influence  of  these  styles  affected  Caro- 
lingian art  in  a  catholic  manner,  moulding  the  form 
and  largely  supplying  the  substance.  There  resulted 
that  general  uniformity  which  marks  the  art  of  the 
early  Middle  Ages.  After  the  ninth  and  tenth  centu- 
ries the  effect  of  the  antique  and  Byzantine,  though 
still  clearly  marked,  is  less  catholic;  and  the  early 
mediaeval  uniformity  is  broken  by  the  growth  of 
national  individuality,  which  shows  a  different  char- 
acter in  the  various  countries  of  northern  Europe. 

Some  of  the  antique  influences  and  survivals  in 
mediaeval  art  may  be  mentioned.     An  example  of  the 


x]  THE  ANTIQUE   IN   MEDIAEVAL  ART  353 

survival  of  the  antique  is  afforded  by  the  habit  of 
personifying  the  subjects  represented.  In  all  periods 
of  mediaeval  art  are  to  be  found  personifications  of 
natural  objects,  like  rivers,  of  human  vices  and  vir- 
tues,1 of  the  arts  and  sciences,  of  the  months  and 
signs  of  the  Zodiac  and  the  seasons  of  the  year. 
Many  creatures  of  pagan  myth  and  legend,  monsters, 
human  personages  and  demi-gods,  survive  in  mediaeval 
art,2  —  Satyrs  and  Centaurs,  Sirens  and  Sibyls.  These 
figures  may  be  simply  ornamental,  or  the  myth  may 
carry  a  moral  and  Christian  significance.  For  exam- 
ple, Ulysses  and  the  Sirens  symbolize  temptation,3 
and  the  Sibyls  appear  among  those  who  prophesied 
of  Christ.  Throughout  the  Middle  Ages  the  repre- 
sentation of  animals,  realistically  or  conventionally 
or  fantastically,  was  universal,  and  the  influence  of 
the  Physiologus  is  continually  encountered,  a  work 
apparently  first  composed  in  Greek  in  Alexandria. 
Not  infrequent  in  mediaeval  art  w^ere  representations 
of  antique  themes  of  legend  and  history  which  were 

1  The  Christian  virtues  and  vices,  personified  so  frequently- 
through  mediaeval  art,  were  not  the  virtues  and  vices  of  paganism 
—  quite  the  contrary.  Nor  were  the  human  qualities  which  they 
represented  subjects  of  pagan  antique  art,  with  some  few  excep- 
tions. It  was  this  general  habit  of  personifying  human  qualities 
that  came  from  the  antiaue. 

2  The  Libri  Carolini,  Lib.  Ill,  Cap.  23  (Migne,  Patr.  Lat.,  Vol. 
98),  express  themselves  strongly  against  the  representation  of  rivers 
and  other  natural  objects  by  means  of  human  figures,  and  against 
other  untruthful  creations  of  pagan  art,  but  such  personifications 
appear  in  Carolingian  miniature  painting.  See  Leitschuh,  op.  cit.f 
pp.  32  et  seq.,  274  et  seq. 

8  Ulysses  and  the  Sirens  appear  as  a  symbol  of  temptation  in  the 
twelfth  century  Hortus  Deliciarum  of  Abbess  Herrad.  of  Hohen- 
burg  in  Alsace. 
2  a 


354:  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

popular  in  mediaeval  literature;  prominent  among  them 
was  the  legend  of  Alexander  the  Great. 

Most  of  the  foregoing  themes  of  art  were  pagan  as 
well  as  antique.  It  is  different  with  the  antique  influ- 
ences still  to  be  mentioned.  Quite  plain  is  the  survival 
of  antique  and  Byzantine  designs  and  motives  of  deco- 
ration in  church  sculpture 1  and  painting,  in  the  minia- 
ture illustration  of  manuscripts,  and  in  ivory  carving. 
Somewhat  less  tangible,  and  yet  real,  was  the  survival 
of  antique  and  Byzantine  ways  of  ordering  and  com- 
posing the  subject  of  the  painting  or  sculpture.  A 
plain  example  of  this  is  afforded  by  the  Bernward 
column  in  Hildesheim  (eleventh  century),  which  in 
its  spiral  ordering  of  the  composition  follows  Trajan's 
column.2  Again  the  general  arrangement  of  figures 
in  the  tympanums  over  the  Romanesque  church  doors 
at  Vezelay,  Autun,  Moissac,  and  on  the  capitals  of 
Moissac  and  of  St.  Trophime  at  Aries  recall  the  panels 
of  antique  Christian  sarcophagi,  while  movement  and 
drapery  suggest   the   Byzantine  style.3     Finally,  the 

1  See,  generally,  Viollet-le-Duc,  Dictionnaire,  article  "  Sculp- 
ture." On  the  Romanesque  capitals  in  the  south  of  France  appear 
the  acanthus  of  antique  capitals  and  the  fantastic  animals  observed 
in  works  from  the  Orient.  In  Provence,  Roman  ornamentation  is 
copied,  and  in  Poitou,  Byzantine  ornament  (Choisy,  Hist.de  V archi- 
tecture, II,  169,  180).  The  capitals  of  St.  Michael's  and  St.  Godehard's 
at  Hildesheim  likewise  show  the  antique  acanthus  leaf,  as  do  many 
other  Romanesque  churches  of  Germany. 

2  Also  the  Bernward  doors  to  the  cathedral  at  Hildesheim  seem 
to  imitate  the  doors  of  S.  Sabina  at  Rome.  See  Bertram,  Die 
Thiiren  von  S.  Sabina,  etc.  Hence  they  are  indirectly  related  to 
Byzantine  art,  to  which  the  doors  of  S.  Sabina  (fifth  to  sixth 
century)  are  related. 

3  Choisy,  Histoire  de  V architecture,  Vol.  II,  pp.  180-181 ;  Viollet- 
le-Duc,  Dictionnaire ,  article  "  Sculpture,"  pp.  104-116. 


x]  THE  ANTIQUE  IN   MEDLEVAL  ART  355 

antique  and  Byzantine  survive  in   drapery  and  cos- 
tume and  in  types  of  form  and  feature.1 

The  survival  of  the  antique  does  not  represent  the 
more  positive  and  original  side  of  the  development  of 
mediaeval  art,  which  advances  by  using  the  antique  and 
in  friendly  competition  with  it.  Between  the  twelfth 
and  the  fourteenth  century  mediaeval  art  culminates  in 
styles  organic  in  their  growth,  and  novel  and  original. 
This  art,  being  no  copy,  has  mastered  and  transformed 
the  suggestions  from  the  past  which  it  has  used.  But 
the  victory  over  the  antique  is  not  the  victory  of  native 
northern  traits,  or  methods  of  decoration,  existing  in 
early  times  and  apart  from  the  influence  of  Roman 
culture.  Such  traits  and  ways  of  decoration  had 
existed;  they  showed  themselves  in  early  Irish  and 
Anglo-Saxon  miniature  painting.  They  even  affected 
the  art  of  the  Carolingian  period.  Here  they  came 
in  conflict  with  the  antique  styles,  and  the  latter  won 
the  day.  Generally  these  original  elements  in  their 
unmodified  state  neither  come  to  dominance  in  medi- 
aeval art  nor  constitute  its  greatness.  Its  growth  and 
greatness  spring  rather  from  faculties  and  capacities, 
tastes,  conceptions,  and  ideals,  evolved  and  matured  in 
the  course  of  mediaeval  progress  and  development, 
from  which  the  general  educational  and  evolutionary 
influence  of  the  antique  was  never  absent.  Under 
the  Christian  dispensation  and  the  tutelage  of  the 
antique,  the  growing  faculties  and  advancing  concep- 
tions of  mediaeval  peoples  evolve  styles  of  art  in 
which  antique  and  Byzantine  elements  are  superseded 
or  transformed. 

1  This  is  plain  in  Carolingian  art. 


356  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap. 

These  transformations  and  changes  may  be  roughly 
grouped.  In  the  personifications  there  takes  place  a 
mediaeval  Christianizing  of  the  human  figures.  Hosts 
of  angels  and  demons  are  carved  or  painted  in  a  style 
that  is  completely  Christian  and  mediaeval,  and  neither 
antique  nor  Byzantine.  The  pagan  antique  monsters 
and  personages  become  relatively  unimportant,  except 
the  Sibyl.  Instead  of  one  Sibyl,  the  later  Middle 
Ages  and  the  Eenaissance  have  many ;  and  the  repre- 
sentation of  them  becomes  frequent.  Yet  it  is  to  be 
remembered  that,  although  Christian  literature  took 
the  Sibyl  from  paganism,  the  Sibyl  in  mediaeval  art 
was  an  original  Christian  creation.  The  legends  of 
the  saints  and  martyrs  are  represented  in  untold  num- 
bers, and  the  legend  of  Charlemagne  and  his  paladins 
vies  with  the  legend  of  Alexander.  Gothic  ornamen- 
tation drawn  from  living  plants  and  foliage  supplants 
antique  and  Byzantine  conventions.1 

In  the  composition  of  single  figures,  and  in  their 
grouping,  the  antique  and  the  Byzantine  give  way  to 
the  mediaeval.  In  Italy,  with  Giotto  and  Ducio,  the 
formal  hieratic  symmetry  of  arrangement  yields  to 
compositions  in  which  the  grouping  seen  in  nature 
and  in  actual  events  is  harmonized  and  idealized. 
An  analogous  revolution  takes  place  in  the  north. 
The  antique  compositions  of  Komanesque  sculpture 
are  changed  in  Gothic  compositions.  The  grouping 
of  the  latter  is  often  natural  and  easy.     Above  all,  it 

1  This  revolution  from  its  beginning  in  the  Romanesque  period 
can  best  be  seen  in  France.  See,  for  a  fine  statement  of  it,  Louis 
Gonse,  La  Sculpture  F?,a?icaise,  introductory  chapter,  especially 
p.  7.     Also  ib.t  Uart  Gothique,  p.  410,  etc. 


x]  THE  ANTIQUE   IX   MEDLEVAL   ART  367 

is  architectural,  germane  to  the  structure  of  the  build- 
ing, which  it  makes  plain  and  emphasizes.  From  the 
twelfth  century,  moreover,  the  cycle  of  subjects  in 
church  painting  and  sculpture  enlarges,  and  becomes 
a  mirror  of  universal  life,  as  known  and  ordered  in 
the  Christian  science  of  the  Middle  Ages.  The  crea- 
tion and  ordering  of  this  gigantic  whole  was  the 
supreme  achievement  of  the  Middle  Ages  in  artistic 
composition.  In  certain  subjects  the  general  lines  of 
antique  Christian  or  Byzantine  compositions  might  be 
retained  as  sacred ;  but  the  elements  which  were  pre- 
served were  modified,  and  then  engulfed  in  this  new 
world  of  Gothic  sculpture. 

The  antique  types  of  form  and  feature  pass  away ; 
their  place  is  taken  by  types  which  are  not  abstract 
and  conventional,  but  formed  from  observation  of 
mediaeval  humanity.  These  become  real,  national, 
individual,  conforming  to  the  characteristics  of  the 
peoples  creating  them.1  There  is,  however,  another 
supreme  fact  regarding  them.  In  the  north  the  races 
among  whom  they  arise  have  been  Christian  from  the 
times  of  their  barbarian  childhood,  and  these  types 
have  been  matured  under  the  Christian  dispensation. 
In  Italy  the  new  art  of  Giotto  has  also  grown  out  of 
the  barbarism  and  decadence  of  the  preceding  Chris- 
tian centuries.  It,  too,  is  Christian,  and  according  to 
its  different  national  style  will  be  found  expressive  of 
Christian  sentiments,  emotions,  and  ideals,  even  as  the 
sculpture  of  the  north  expresses  them.      These  per- 

1  Respecting  the  evolution  of  these  true  local  types  in  French 
Gothic,  see  Louis  Gonse,  La  Sculpture  Francaise  (1895),  pp.  9-15; 
ib.f  Vart  Gothique,  Chap.  XII. 


358  THE  CLASSICAL  HERITAGE  [chap,  x 

fected  mediaeval  types,  as  they  may  be  seen  on  the 
Church  of  the  Arena  at  Padua,  or  on  the  Cathedral 
of  Rheims,  are  stamped  with  the  racehood  and  artistic 
genius  of  their  creators,  and  yet  they  have  also  a 
Christian  character  constituting  a  common  element 
which  becomes  stronger  in  them  the  more  strongly 
their  different  racial  individuality  is  marked.  Hence, 
these  types  differ  from  the  antique  Greek  and  Roman, 
first,  in  that  they  are  the  true  types  of  later  times 
and  races,  and  secondly,  in  that  they  are  Christian 
and  represent  the  expression  in  art  of  the  distinctly 
Christian  emotions, — love,  fear,  grief,  reverence,  humil- 
ity, and  beatific  joy,  as  well  as  the  evil  opposites  of 
these,  —  pride,  anger,  hatred,  and  disdain.  The  genius 
of  Christianity  has  achieved  full  mastery  over  the 
arts  of  painting  and  sculpture,  it  has  penetrated  and 
transformed  them,  and  can  express  itself  and  utter 
the  sentiments  and  emotions  of  the  Christian  soul 
through  these  two  noble  means  of  human  expression. 
How  completely  the  genius  of  Christianity  mastered 
architecture,  sculpture,  and  painting,  may  be  learned 
from  the  long  history  of  Christian  art.  In  scope  and 
purpose,  in  tone  and  feeling,  Christian  art  has  proved 
equal  to  its  great  task  of  setting  forth  Christianity 
as  well  as  the  joys  and  sorrows,  the  loves  and  abhor- 
rences,  of  the  Christian  soul ;  it  has  been  historical 
and  dogmatic,  instructive  and  edifying,  dignified  and 
formal;  it  has  been  symbolical  and  mystical;  it  has 
been  devotional,  loving,  joyful,  and  full  of  tears  —  as 
many  things  as  Christianity  has  been. 


BIBLIOGRAPHICAL   APPENDIX 

ARRANGED  TO  CORRESPOND  WITH  THE 
CHAPTERS  OF  THE  TEXT 

CHAPTER  H 

On  Neo-platonism ;  Zeller,  Philosophie  der  Griechen,  3d. 
Ed.,  Vol.  32;  Bigg,  Neo-platonism  (London,  1895).  I  have 
discussed  the  topics  referred  to  in  this  chapter  more  fully 
in  the  chapters  relating  to  Greece  and  Rome  in  Ancient 
Ideals. 

CHAPTER  in 

On  the  decadent  social  and  political  condition  of  the  Roman 
Empire  in  the  fourth  and  fifth  centuries  :  Hodgkin,  Italy  and 
her  Invaders  (2d  Ed.,  Oxford,  1892- ),  especially  Vol.  II, 
Book  III ;  Dill,  Roman  Society  in  the  last  century  of  the 
Western  Empire,  Book  III  (London,  1898) ;  W.  A.  Brown, 
State  Control  of  Industry  in  the  Fourth  Century,  Political 
Science  Quarterly,  Vol.  2  (New  York,  1887).  On  the  de- 
based use  of  Virgil :  Comparetti,  Virgil  in  the  Middle 
Ages  (2d  Ed.,  Eng.  Trans.,  1895).  On  the  rhetoric  and  ora- 
tory of  the  period :  Boissier,  La  fin  du  paganisme  (2d  Ed., 
1894)  ;  Hatch,  Influence  of  Greek  Ideas  (Hibbert  Lectures, 
1888) ;  Martha,  Les  moralistes  sous  l'Empire  Romain  (Paris, 
1886)  ;  A.  and  M.  Croiset,  Histoire  de  la  litterature  Grecque, 
Vol.  V  (Paris,  1899)  ;  H.  von  Arnim,  Leben  und  Werke  des 
Dio  von  Prusa  (Berlin,  1898)  ;  Symmachus,  Opera  ed.  Seeck 
(1883,  Mon.  Germ.  Hist.  Auct.  Antiquiss.  Vol.  6)  ;  Sidonius 
359 


360  APPENDIX 

Apollinaris,  Epistolae  et  carmina,  ed.  Lutjohann  (1887,  Mon. 
Germ.  Hist.  Auct.  Antiquiss.  Vol.  8). 

The  Story  of  Alexander :  Paul  Meyer,  Alexandre  le  Grand 
dans  la  litterature  Francaise  du  moyen  age  (Paris,  1886)  ; 
Saintsbury,  Flourishing  of  Romance  (New  York,  1897)  ; 
Constans,  L'Epopee  Antique,  in  Petit  de  Julleville's  His- 
toire  de  la  langue  et  de  la  litterature  Francaise,  Vol.  I  (Paris, 
1896)  ;  Pseudo-Callisthenes,  Historia  fabulosa,  ed.  Ch.  Muller 
in  Arriani  Anabasis,  etc.  (Didot,  1846,  reprinted  1877)  ;  E.  A. 
W.  Budge,  the  History  of  Alexander  the  Great,  being  the 
Syriac  version  of  the  Pseudo-Callisthenes  (Cambridge,  1889), 
ib.,  Life  and  Exploits  of  Alexander  the  Great,  Ethiopic  ver- 
sions (London,  1S96)  ;  Xoeldeke,  Beitr'age  zur  Geschichte  des 
Alexanderromans,  Denkschriften  der  Kaiserlichen  Akad.  der 
Wissenschaften  in  Wien,  Philos.  Hist.  Classe,  Bd.  XXXVIII 
(Vienna,  1890)  ;  Ausfeld,  Zur  Kritik  des  Griechischen  Alex- 
anderromans, Untersuchungen  iiber  die  unechten  Theile  der 
altesten  Uberlieferung  (Karlsruhe,  1894),  ib.,  Die  Orosius 
Recension  der  Historia  Alexandri  Magni  de  Proeliis,  Fest- 
schrift der  Badischen  Gymnasien  (1886)  ;  on  the  story  of 
Alexander  in  early  English  and  Italian  literature,  see  Morley, 
English  Writers  (2d  Ed.,  1889),  Vol.  Ill,  pp.  286-303 ;  Alex- 
ander and  Dindimus,  ed.  W.  S.  Skeat  (Early  Eng.  Text  Soc, 
1898)  ;  Bartoli,  Storia  della  letteratura  Italiana,  I,  p.  162  sqq. 
(Florence,  1878). 

The  Tale  of  Troy:  Daretis  Phrygii  de  Excidio  Troiae 
Historia,  ed.  Meister  (Teubner,  1873) ;  Dictys  Cretensis 
Ephemeridos  Belli  Troiani  libri  sex,  ed.  Meister  (Teubner, 
1S72)  ;  Achaintre,  Histoire  de  la  guerre  de  Troie  (Paris,  1813) ; 
Flavii  Philostrati  Opera,  ed.  Kayser  (Teubner,  1871)  ;  A 
Joly,  Benoit  de  Sainte-More  et  le  Roman  de  Troie  ou  les 
Metamorphoses  d'Homere  et  de  l'epopee  greco-latine  au 
Moyen  Age  (Paris,  1870-1871,  2  Vols.  4to,  previously  printed 
in  Memoirs  de  la  Societe  des  Antiquaires  de  Xormandie,  3d. 
Series,  Vol.  7,  Parts  1  and  2, 1869-1870) ;  Dunger,  Die  Sage 


APPENDIX  361 

vom  trojanischen  Kriege  in  den  Bearbeitungen  des  Mittel- 
alters  und  ihre  antiken  Quellen  (Dresden,  1869)  ;  Koerting, 
Dictys  und  Dares,  Ein  Beitrag  zur  Geschichte  der  Troja-Sage 
in  ihrem  Ubergange  aus  der  antiken  in  die  romantische 
Form  (Halle,  1874).  For  the  Trojan  legend  in  England  and 
Italy,  see  Morley,  English  Writers,  III,  pp.  207-231  (1880) ; 
Bartoli,  Storia,  etc.,  I,  p.  143  sqq.  Trojan  origin  ascribed 
to  the  Franks,  Gesta  regum  Francorum,  1,  Recueil  des  his- 
toriens  des  Gaules,  etc.,  T.  II,  p.  542. 

The  Greek  Romances:  Greek  Romances  of  Heliodorus, 
etc.  (Bohn,  1855) ;  Erotici  scriptores  graeci,  ed.  Herscher 
(Teubner,  185S) ;  Heliodori  Aethiopicorum  libri  decern, 
ed.  Bekker  (Teubner,  1855)  ;  Rohde,  Der  griechische  Roman 
und  seine  Vorlaufer  (Leipsic,  1876)  ;  Chasang,  Histoire  du 
Roman  dans  l'antiquite  (1862) ;  Christ,  Geschichte  der 
griechischen  Literatur  (2d  Ed.,  Munich,  1890)  ;  A.  and  M. 
Croiset,  Histoire  de  la  litterature  Grecque,  Vol.  V  (Paris, 
1899). 

CHAPTER  IV 

On  the  knowledge  of  Greek  in  the  early  Middle  Ages: 
Charles  Gidel,  Les  fitudes  grecques  en  Europe  (4th  cent. 
to  1453),  in  Nouvelles  Etudes  sur  la  litterature  Grecque 
moderne  (Paris,  1878) ;  Cramer,  De  Graecis  medii  aevi 
studiis  (Sundiae  (Stralsund),  1849-1853) ;  L.  Traube,  O 
Roma  nobilis,  Abhand.  Bair.  Akad.,  Bd.  19,  2d  Abt. 
(1891),  pp.  353-356,  361 ;  Ebert,  Allgemeine  Geschichte  der 
Literatur  des  Mittelalters,  Bd.  II  and  III  (Leipsic,  1880), 
in  indices  under  "  Griechische  Sprachkenntniss  " ;  Dresdner, 
Kultur  und  Sittengeschichte  der  Italienischer  Geistlichkeit, 
in  10  and  11  Jahrhundert,  p.  195  (Breslau,  1890)  ;  K.  Cas- 
pari,  Quellen  zur  Gesch.  d.  Tauf symbols,  III,  Exkurs  I, 
pp.  267-466  (Christiana,  1875) ;  Egger,  L'Hellenisme  en 
France  (1869)  ;  G.  Young,  The  History  of  Greek  Literature 
in  England  (London,  1862).     On  Greek  studies  in   Ireland: 


362  APPENDIX 

Ozanam,  La  civilisation  chretienne  chez  les  Francs,  5th.  Ed., 
Chap.  IX,  (Paris,  1872) ;  Haureau,  Singularity  historiques 
et  litteraires,  p.  1  sqq.  (Paris,  1861).  On  the  activities  of 
Notker  the  German:  P.  Piper,  Die  'alteste  deutsche  Litera- 
tur  (Deutsche  Nat.  Lit.),  p.  338  et  seq. 

On  the  schools  of  the  early  Middle  Ages:  Ozanam,  Civ. 
chret.  chez  les  Francs,  Chap.  IX,  ib.,  Des  ecoles  et  de  l'in- 
struction  publique  en  Italie  aux  temps  barbares  (Documents 
pour  servir  a  l'histoire  litteraire  de  l'ltalie)  ;  Mullinger, 
The  Schools  of  Charles  the  Great  (London,  1877)  ;  Specht, 
Geschichte  des  Unterrichtswesen  in  Deutschland  (1885) ; 
Dresdner,  Kultur,  etc.,  Kap.  V ;  Kashdall,  Universities  of 
Europe  in  the  Middle  Ages  (1895),  Vol.  I,  Chap.  II; 
L'histoire  litteraire  de  la  France,  Vol.  XXIV,  p.  382  sqq. 
(1862) ;  Haureau,  Singularity,  etc.,  p.  108  sqq.  On  Cas- 
siodorus:  Hodgkin,  The  Letters  of  Cassiodorus  (1886); 
Montalembert,  Les  Moines  d'Occident,  Vol.  II,  pp.  75-82; 
Ebert,  op.  cit.,  2d.  Ed.,  I,  pp.  498-514 ;  Norden,  Antike  Kunst- 
prosa,  p.  663  (Leipsic,  1898).  His  own  works  are  edited  by 
Mommsen  and  Traube  in  Mon.  Germ.  XII  (Berlin,  1894). 

Martianus  Capella:  De  Nuptiis  Philologiae  et  Mercurii, 
ed.  by  Eyssenhardt,  with  prolegomena  (Teubner,  1866) ; 
Haureau,  Comment  aire  de  Jean  Scot  Erigene  sur  Martianus 
Capella,  Paris,  Bib.  Nationale,  Notices  et  extraits  des  Mss., 
1862,  V.  20,  Pt.  2;  H.  Parker,  The  Seven  Liberal  Arts, 
English  Historical  Review,  1890;  Ebert,  op.  cit.y  I;  Teuffel- 
Schwabe,  Ges.  des  Romischen,  Lit.  Eng.  trans,  from  5th 
German  Ed.  (London,  1891-1892),  §452;  Piper,  Alteste 
Deutsche  Literatur,  p.  392  et  seq.  (Deutsche  Nat.  Lit.). 
Interesting  illustrations  of  the  influence  of  Capella  are  to 
be  found  in  the  twelfth  century  Latin  poem,  Anticlau- 
dianus,  Lib.  II,  Chap.  VII  sqq.,  of  Alan  us  de  Insulis 
(Migne,  Patr.  Lat.,  210).  For  effect  of  Capella  on  the 
representation  of  the  Sciences  in  sculpture,  see  Male,  L'art 
religieux  du  XIII*  siecle,  p.  102  sqq.  (Paris,  1898). 


APPENDIX  363 

Boethius:  Opera  in  Migne,  Patr.  Lat.,  Vols.  63  and  64; 
Anicii  Manlii  Severeni  Boetii  Comraentarii  in  Librum 
Aristotelis  7T£pt  kpfx-nvtia*;,  recensuit  C.  Meiser  (1877-1880)  ; 
De  Consolatione  Philosophiae,  ed.  Peiper  (Leipsic,  1871) ; 
The  Consolation  of  Philosophy,  translated  by  H.  R.  James 
(London,  1897) ;  Alfred  the  Great's  translation  of  the  Con- 
solation of  Philosophy,  ed.  by  Sedgefield  (Clarendon  Press). 
For  Notker's  translations,  see  Piper,  Die  Alteste  Deutsche 
Literatur,  p.  354  et  sqq.  (Deutsche  Nat.  Lit.).  A  sketch  of 
famous  mediaeval  translations  of  the  De  Consolatione  is 
given  by  H.  F.  Stewart  in  Boethius,  an  Essay  (1891).  See 
also  Nitzsch,  Das  System  des  Boethius  (Berlin,  1860) ; 
Hildebrand,  Boethius  und  seine  Stellung  zum  Christenthum 
(Regensburg,  1885)  ;  Haureau,  Histoire  de  la  philosophie 
scholastique,  Vol.  1  (Paris,  1872)  ;  Hodgkin,  Italy  and  her 
Invaders,  Vol.  III.  For  Dante's  use  of  Boethius,  see  Moore, 
Studies  in  Dante,  First  Series,  pp.  282-288;  Toynbee's  Dante 
Dictionary,  articles  "  Boezio,"  "  Consolazione  Philosophiae." 

An  adequate  history  of  the  use  of  the  classics  in  the  Mid- 
dle Ages  does  not  exist.  Heeren's  painstaking  Geschichte 
der  classischen  Literatur  im  Mittelalter,  Werke,  Vols.  4 
and  5  (Gottingen  1822),  will  hardly  satisfy  the  modern 
scholar.  The  subject  lies  beyond  the  present  work,  but  the 
following  references  are  given.  On  the  general  propriety 
of  reading  the  classic  authors  or  confining  oneself  to  the 
study  of  the  seven  liberal  arts,  the  question  of  the  auctores 
as  against  the  artes :  Norden,  Antike  Kunstprosa,  pp.  688- 
747.  On  the  use  of  the  Latin  classic  authors  generally : 
Graf,  Roma  nella  memoria  e  nelle  immaginazioni  del  Medio 
Evo,  II,  p.  163  et  seq.  (Turin,  1882)  ;  Comparetti,  Virgil  in 
the  Middle  Ages,  passim ;  Ebert,  Allgemeine  Geschichte  der 
Literatur  des  Mittelalters,  passim ;  Manitius,  Beitrage,  Philo- 
logus,  Zeitschrift  fur  class.  Alterthum,  Supplementband  VII, 
pp.  758-766,  and  Philologus  51,  p.  704,  and  52,  p.  536. 

On  Virgil  the  authority  is  Comparetti's  Virgil  in  the  Mid- 


364  APPENDIX 

die  Ages.  See  also  Graf,  op.  cit.,  II,  pp.  196-258 ;  Tunison, 
Master  Virgil  (2d  Ed.,  1890)  ;  C.  F.  Leland,  Unpublished 
legends  of  Virgil  (1899). 

Cicero:  Deschamps,  Essai  Bibliographique  sur  Ciceron, 
Paris,  1863 ;  Graf,  op.  cit,  II,  pp.  259-268 ;  Norden,  op.  cit., 
pp.  707,  708,  and  note  to  p.  708. 

Ovid :  K.  Bartsch,  Albrecht  von  Halbertstadt  und  Ovid  im 
Mittelalter  (1861) ;  Gaston  Paris,  Les  anciens  versions  fran- 
caises  de  l'art  d'aimer  et  des  remedes  d'amour  d'Ovide,  in 
La  Poesie  du  Moyen  Age,  Premiere  serie  (Paris,  1895) ; 
Graf,  op.  cit.,  II,  pp.  296-315 ;  L.  Constans,  in  De  Julleville's 
Hist,  de  la  langue,  etc.,  francaise,  Vol.  I,  p.  242  et  seq. ; 
L.  Sudre,  Ovidii  Nasonis  Metamorphoseon  libros  quomodo 
nostrates  medii  aevi  poetae  imitati  interpretatique  sint 
(Paris,  1893)  ;  Langlois,  Sources  de  la  Roman  de  la  Rose 
(Vol.  57,  Ecole  Francaise  de  Rome) ;  Manitius,  Beitrage  zur 
Gesch.  des  Ovidius  im  Mittelalter,  Philologus,  Z'ft  fur  die 
class.  Alterthum,  Suppl.  Bd.  VII,  1899,  pp.  723-758 ;  Ovidio 
nella  tradizione  popolare  di  Sulmona,  a.  de  Nino  (Casal- 
bordino,  1886)  ;  E.  Stengel,  Maitre  Elie's  Uberarbeitung  der 
altesten  franzosischen  Ubertragung  von  Ovid's  Ars  Ama- 
toria,  Ausgaben,  etc.,  der  Romanische  Philol.  XL VII  (Mar- 
burg, 1886). 

Horace,  Seneca,  Lucan,  Statius,  and  Cato :  Graf,  op.  cit.,  II, 
Cap.  XVII;  Manitius,  Analekten  zur  Geschichte  des  Horaz 
im  Mittelalter  (1893).  Pliny:  K.  Ruck,  Die  Naturalis  His- 
toria  des  Plinius  im  Mittelalter,  Sitz.  Bericht.  Bayerischen 
Akad.,  Philos.-Philol.  Classe,  1898,  pp.  203-318.  Lucretius: 
J.  Philippe,  Lucrece  dans  la  theologie  chretienne  du  IIIe  au 
XIIIe  siecle,  et  specialment  dans  les  ecoles  carolingiennes ; 
Revue  de  l'histoire  des  religions  32  (1895),  pp.  284-302,  33 
(1896),  pp.  19-36,  125-162.  Terence:  Comparetti,  Virgil  in 
the  Middle  Ages,  p.  70 ;  Ebert,  Allge.  Ges.,  Ill,  314  sqq. 

See  also  catalogues  of  the  libraries  of  St.  Gall  and  Bobbio, 
G.  Becker,  Catalogi  bibliothecarum   antiqui  (Bonn,  1885), 


APPENDIX  365 

pp.  43,  et  seq.,  64,  et  seq.  Alcuin's  Versus  de  patribus,  etc., 
Euboricensis,  Migne,  Pat.  Lat.,  101,  col.  843,  Traube,  Poetae 
Lat.  Aevi.  Carolini,  I, 'pp.  203-204  (lines  1535-1560)  gives 
a  list  of  pagan  and  Christian  authors  in  the  library  at  York. 

On  Dante  s  knowledge  of  the  classics :  E.  Moore,  Scripture 
and  classical  authors  in  Dante  (Studies  in  Dante,  First 
Series,  1896).  "The  Vulgate  is  quoted  or  referred  to  more 
than  500  times ;  Aristotle  more  than  300 ;  Virgil  about  200 ; 
Ovid  about  100;  Cicero  and  Lucan  about  50  each;  Statius 
and  Boethius  between  30  and  40  each ;  Horace,  Livy,  and 
Orosius  between  10  and  20  each,"  with  a  few  scattered  ref- 
erences to  others,  ib.,  p.  4.  For  Dante  the  five  great  poets  of 
antiquity  are  Homer,  Virgil,  Horace,  Ovid,  Lucan  (Inferno, 
IV,  88).  In  Vulg.  Eloq.,  II,  6,  he  puts  in  Statius  (in  place 
of  Horace)  as  a  model  of  style.  See  also  Toynbee's  Dante 
Dictionary;  G.  Szombathely,  Dante  e  Ovidio  (Trieste,  1888). 
On  the  classic  authors  known  to  Vincent  de  Beauvais,  the 
encyclopaedic  scholar  of  the  thirteenth  century,  see  L'his- 
toire  litter  aire  de  la  France,  Vol.  XVIII,  p.  482  sqq. 

Roman  law,  sources :  Corpus  Juris  Romani  Antejustiniani, 
ed.  Haenel  (1837)  ;  Codex  Theodosianus,  ed.  Haenel  (1842)  ; 
Jus  Civile  antejustinianeum,  ed.  Hugo  (1815) ;  Corpus 
Juris  Civilis,  ed.  by  Mommsen  and  Kriiger  (1877) ;  Edictum 
Theodorici,  in  Pertz's  Mon.  Germ.  Hist.  Leges,  Vol.  V ; 
Breviarium  in  Haenel,  Lex  Rom.  Visigothorum ;  Petri  Ex- 
ceptions, ed.  Savigny,  Appendix  to  Bd.  II  of  his  Geschichte ; 
Brachylogus,  ed.  Bocking;  Summa  Perusina,  in  Heimbach's 
Anecdota,  II  (1840). 

Authorities:  Savigny,  Geschichte  des  Romischen  Rechts 
im  Mittelalter  (2d  Ed.,  7  Vols.,  1834-1851)  ;  Conrat  (Cohn), 
Ges.  der  Quellen  und  Literatur  des  Rom.  R.  im  fruheren 
Mittelalter  (Leipsic,  1891) ;  Flach,  Etudes  critiques  sur 
Thistoire  du  droit  romain  au  moyen  age  (1890) ;  Sohm, 
Frankisches  Recht  and  Romisches  Recht,  in  Zeitschrift  fur 
Rechtsgeschichte,  Savigny-Stiftung,  Bd.  I   (1880)  ;   Fitting 


366  APPENDIX 

in  ift.,  Bd.  6  (1885),  pp.  84-186;  Schroeder  in  ib.y  Bd.  2, 
pp.  1-82  (1881)  ;  Fitting,  Die  Anfange  der  Rechtsschule  zu 
Bologna  (1888)  ;  Muirhead,  Historical  Introduction  to  the 
Law  of  Rome  (1886)  ;  Karlowa,  Rdmische  Rechtsgeschichte 
(1885) ;  Roby,  Introduction  to  the  Study  of  Justinian's 
Digest  (1886)  ;  Amos,  Civil  Law  of  Rome ;  Maasen,  Ge- 
schichte  der  Quellen  und  der  Literature  des  Canonischen 
Rechts  im  Abendlande  (1870) ;  Tardif,  Hist,  des  sources  du 
droit  canonique  (1887)  ;  Yiollet,  Hist,  des  sources  du  droit 
civil  francais,  2d  Ed.  (1893)  ;  Esmein,  Hist,  du  droit  francais, 
2d  Ed.  (1895);  Pertile,  Storia  del  diritto  Italiano,  Vol.  I; 
Salvioli,  Storia  del  diritto  Italiano,  3d  Ed.  (1899) ;  Ciccag- 
lione,  Storia  del  diritto  Italiano;  Ficker,  Forschungen  zur 
Reich  und  Rechtsgeschichte  Italiens,  III;  Hodgkin,  Italy 
and  her  Invaders,  Vol.  VI  (1896)  ;  Brunner,  Deutsche  Rechts- 
geschichte, ib.,  in  Holzendorff's  Encyklopadie  der  Rechts- 
wissenschaft,  5th  Ed.,  pp.  213-303 ;  Schroeder,  Deutsche 
Rechtsgeschichte  (1889) ;  C.  A.  Schmidt,  Reception  des 
Rom.  Rechts  in  Deutschland  (1868) ;  Pollock  and  Maitland, 
History  of  English  Law  (1895) ;  Scrutton,  Influence  of 
Roman  Law  on  the  Law  of  England  (1886) ;  Maitland, 
Roman  Canon  Law  in  the  Church  of  England  (London, 
1898) ;  Rashdall,  Universities  of  Europe  in  the  Middle  Ages 
(1895),  Vol.  I,  Chap.  IV  (on  the  Bologna  school). 


CHAPTER  V 

Stoical  Christian  ethics  of  Ambrose :  Ambrosius,  De  officiis 
ministrorum,  Migne,  Pat.  Lat.,  16  ;  Cicero,  De  officiis ;  Ebert, 
Allgemeine  Geschichte,  etc.,  Vol.  I. 

Synesius :  Synesii  Opera,  Migne,  Pat.  Graec,  66 ;  Smith  and 
TVace,  Diet,  of  Christian  Biography,  Synesius,  an  excellent 
article  by  the  late  T.  R.  Halcomb,  from  which  I  have  taken 
the  translations  in  the  text ;  A.  Gardner,  Synesius  of  Cyrene 


APPENDIX  367 

(The  Fathers  for  English  Readers,  1886);  Synesius  on 
Dreams,  trans,  by  Isaac  Myers  (Phila.,  1888). 

Pseudo-Dionysius  the  Areopagite :  S.  Dionysii  Areopagitae 
Opera,  Migne,  Patr.  Graec.,  3  and  4 ;  Joannis  Scoti  Erigena, 
Versio  Operum  S.  Dionysii  Areop.,  Migne,  Pat.  Lat,  122; 
Vita  Dionysii,  by  Hilduin,  Migne,  Pat.  Lat.,  106;  Celestial 
and  Ecclesiastical  Hierarchy,  trans,  by  Parker  (London, 
1894)  ;  [Remaining]  Works  of  St.  Dionysius  the  Areopa- 
gite, trans,  by  Parker  (London,  1897) ;  Die  Angebliche 
Schriften  des  Areopagiten  Dionysius,  ubersetzt  von  J.  G. 
v.  Engelhardt  (1823)  ;  Hugo  Koch,  Pseudo-Dionysius  Areo- 
pagita  in  seinen  Beziehungen  zum  Xeuplatonismus  und 
Mysterienwesen,  Forschungen  zur  Christlich.  Lit.  and  Dog- 
mengeschichte,  I  (Mainz,  1900)  ;  W.  F.  Westcott,  Dionysius 
the  Areopagite  (in  u  Religious  Thought  of  the  West ") ; 
Smith  and  Wace,  Diet,  of  Christian  Biography,  Dionysius; 
Siebert,  Die  Metaphysik  und  Ethik  des  Pseudo-Dionysius 
Areopagita  (Jena,  1894).  On  Dante's  references  to  Dionysius: 
E.  Gardner,  Dante's  Ten  Heavens  (1898),  On  Dionysius1 
influence  in  the  Middle  Ages:  W.  Preger,  Geschichte  der 
Deutschen  Mystik  im  Mittelalter  (Leipsic,  1874) ;  Hilde- 
brand,  Didaktik  aus  der  Zeit  der  Kreuzziige  (Deutsche  Nat. 
Lit.) ;  Mystere  des  actes  des  apotres,  Didron's  Annales 
Archeolog'iques,  XIII  and  XIV  (1853,  1854). 

Philo  :  Philo  Judaeus,  Opera  Omnia,  ed.  M.  C.  E.  Richter 
(Leipsic,  1828-1830),  translation  by  C.  D.  Yonge  (1854-1855, 
Bohn)  ;  J.  Drummond,  Philo  Judaeus  or  the  Jewish-Alex- 
andrian philosophy  (1888) ;  on  Philo  see  also  Schiirer,  His- 
tory of  the  Jewish  People  in  the  Time  of  Jesus  Christ, 
Vol.  Ill  (Eng.  Trans.,  1891);  Bigg,  Christian  Platonists  of 
Alexandria  (Bampton  Lectures,  1886)  ;  Zeller,  Geschichte  der 
Griechischen  Philosophic  III2  (3d  Ed.) ;  A.  and  M.  Croiset, 
Histoire  de  la  litterature  Grecque,  Vol.  V  (Paris,  1900). 

Symbolism  and  allegorical  interpretation:  Origines,  Opera, 
Migne,  Patr.  Graec,  11-17 ;  Cyril  of  Jerusalem,  Opera,  Migne, 


368  APPENDIX 

Patr.  Graec,  33 ;  translations,  with  a  good  introduction,  in 
Vol.  VII,  Library  of  Post-Xicene  Fathers  ;  Basilius,  Homilia 
in  Hexaemeron,  Migne,  Patr.  Graec,  29 ;  S.  Hilarii  Opera, 
Migne,  Patr.  Lat.,  9  and  10 ;  S.  Gregorius  Magnus,  Moralia, 
Migne,  Patr.  Lat.,  75,  and  translation,  Morals  on  the  Book  of 
Job  (Oxford,  1844-1847) ;  Eucherius,  Formulae  spiritualis 
intelligence,  ed.  Wotke,  Vol.  31,  Vienna  Corpus  Script. 
Eccl.  Lat.  (1894);  G.  Anrich,  Das  antike  Mysterienwesen  in 
seinem  Einfluss  auf  dem  Christentum  (1894) ;  Cheetham, 
The  Mysteries,  Pagan  and  Christian  (Macmillan,  1897) ; 
E.  Hatch,  Influence  of  Greek  Ideas  upon  the  Christian 
Church  (Hibbert  Lectures  for  1888) ;  A.  Harnack,  Lehr- 
buch  der  Dogmengeschichte  (Ed.  1  and  2,  1888-1890). 

CHAPTER  VI 

The  Christian  attitude  toward  literature  and  philosophy : 
Justin  Martyr,  Trypho,  trans,  in  Ante-Xicene  Fathers, 
Vol.  I ;  Clement  of  Alexandria,  Stromata,  Migne,  Patr.  Graec, 
8  and  9,  trans,  in  Ante-Xicene  Fathers,  Vol.  II;  Origenes, 
De  Principiis,  Migne,  Patr.  Graec,  Vol.  11,  trans,  in  Ante- 
Xicene  Fathers,  Vol.  IV;  Athanasius,  Discourses  against 
the  Arians,  trans,  in  Xicene  Fathers,  2d  Series,  Vol.  IV; 
Tertullian,  De  Idolatria,  de  praescriptionibus  adversus  He- 
reticos,  Migne,  Patr.  Lat.,  1  and  2 ;  Jerome,  Epist.  XXII,  ad 
Eustochium,  Migne,  Patr.  Lat.,  22,  trans,  in  Xicene  Fathers, 
2d  Series,  Vol.  VI ;  Augustine,  De  doctrina  Christiana,  Con- 
fessiones,  Civitas  Dei,  De  Trinitate,  trans,  in  Xicene  Fathers, 
Vols.  II  and  III;  G.  Boissier,  La  fin  du  Paganisme  (2d  Ed., 
1894);  E.  Xorden,  Die  antike  Kunstprosa  (Leipsic,  1898); 
Bigg,  Christian  Platonists  of  Alexandria  (Bampton  Lee, 
1886);  Xeander,  Church  History;  J.  E.  Erdmann,  History 
of  Philosophy,  English  Trans.  (1890) ;  Uberweg,  History  of 
Philosophy,  English  Trans.  (1871);  Fred.  D.  Maurice, 
Mediaeval  Philosophy  (1856,  Xew  Ed.,  1870);  B.  Haureau, 


_ 


APPENDIX  3G9 

Histoire  de  la  philosophie  scholastique  (Paris,  1872-1880); 
Jourdain,  Recherches  critique  sur  Page  et  Porigine  des  tra- 
ductions latines  d'Aristote  (Paris,  1843). 

Conceptions  of  love  and  beauty:  Plato,  Phaedrus  and  Sym- 
posium; Gregory  of  Nyssa,  De  virginitate,  De  Anima  et 
Resurrectione,  Migne,  Patr.  Graec,  46,  trans,  in  Nicene 
Fathers,  2d  Series,  Vol.  5 ;  Clement  of  Alexandria,  Paeda- 
gogus,  Stromata,  Migne,  Patr.  Graec,  8  and  9,  trans.  Ante- 
Nicene  Fathers,  Vol.  II ;  Augustine,  Confessiones,  De  pulchro 
et  apto,  Civitas  dei,  De  Trinitate ;  Lactantius,  Divinae  In- 
stitutions, V,  Migne,  Pat.  Lat.,  6,  trans,  in  Ante-Nicene 
Fathers,  Vol.  VII ;  Tertullian,  De  Idolatria,  Migne,  Pat.  Lat., 
1,  trans.  Ante-Nicene  Fathers,  Vol.  Ill;  Origen,  Contra  Cel- 
sum,  IV,  Migne,  Pat.  Graec,  11,  trans.  Ante-Nicene  Fathers, 
Vol.  IV. 

CHAPTER  VH 

Modern  works  relating  to  early  Monasticism :  Zockler, 
Askese  und  Monchthum  (Frankfurt  a.  M.  1897)  will  be 
found  most  useful  to  the  student  on  account  of  its  orderly 
arrangement  and  full  references  to  the  literature ;  Monta- 
lembert,  Les  Moines  d'Occident  depuis  St.  Benoit  jusqu'a 
St.  Bernard  (1860-1867,  Monks  of  the  West,  Boston,  1872); 
J.  G.  Smith,  Christian  Monasticism  from  the  Fourth  to  the 
Ninth  Centuries  (London,  1892);  A.  Harnack,  Das  Monch- 
thum, seine  Ideale  und  seine  Geschichte  (1895,  trans,  by 
Gillett,  New  York,  1895);  Wishart,  Short  History  of  Monks 
and  Monasteries  (Trenton,  N.  J.,  1900) ;  E.  L.  Cutts,  Saint 
Jerome  (The  Fathers  for  English  Readers);  Smith  and  Wace, 
Diet,  of  Christian  Biography,  articles  "  Jovinian,"  "  Vigi- 
lantius  "  ;  De  Broglie,  L'figlise  et  PEmpire  Romain  en  IV*me 
siecle  (Paris,  1857-1866);  Amelineau,  Revue  de  Phistoire 
des  religions,  Vol.  15  (1887),  p.  53  et  seq. ;  Weingarten,  arti- 
cle "  Monchthum  "  in  Prot.  Real  Encyc,  X ;  Deiehaye,  Les 

2b 


370  APPENDIX 

Stylites,  Saint  Symeon  et  ses  imitateurs,  Revue  des  questions 
historiques,  Vol.  57  (1895),  pp.  52-103. 

Ancient  writings  relating  to  the  beginnings  of  Monasticism: 
Two  Letters  on  Virginity,  Ante-Nicene  Fathers,  VIII, 
p.  51 ;  Harnack,  Die  Pseudo-Clementinischen  Briefe  de 
Virginitate  und  die  Entstehung  des  Mdnchthums,  Sitz. 
Berichte  der  Berlin  Akademie,  1891,  I,  361-385;  Didache' 
of  the  Twelve  Apostles,  Harnack,  Texte  und  Untersuchun- 
gen,  Vol.  II,  Ante-Nicene  Fathers,  VII ;  Athanasius,  Vita 
Antonii,  Migne,  Patr.  Graec,  26,  trans,  in  Nicene  Fathers, 
Second  Series,  IV;  Palladius,  Historia  Lausiaca,  Migne, 
Patr.  Lat.,  73  and  74,  Patr.  Graec,  34,  attached  to  works  of 
Macarius  (this  work  will  satisfy  the  lover  of  human  folly) ; 
Amelineau,  Histoire  des  Monasteres  de  la  Basse-Egypte 
(An.  du  Musee  Guimet,  T.  25,  1894);  Evagrius  Ponticus,  De 
Octo  vitiosis  cogitationibus,  Gallandus,  Biblioteca  Veterum 
Patrum  VII  (Venice,  1765-81);  Nilus  Abbas,  De  octo 
spiritibus  malitiae,  Migne,  Patr.  Graec,  79 ;  Sozomen,  His- 
toria Ecclesia,  Migne,  Pat.  Graec,  67,  trans.  Nicene  Fathers, 
Second  Series,  II. 

On  the  Essenes :  Zeller,  Philosophic  der  Griechen,  3d  Ed., 
Vol.  32,  p.  277,  etc ;  Bishop  Lightfoot's  Essay.  The  authori- 
ties upon  the  Essenes  and  Therapeutae  are  given  and 
summed  up  in  Zockler,  Askese,  etc.,  pp.  120-134;  Philo, 
A  Contemplative  Life,  is  translated  by  Yonge  (Bohn, 
1855). 

Pachomius:  Zockler,  ib.,  pp.  192-211;  Palladius,  Historia 
Lausiaca  (Cap.  38) ;  E.  Amelineau,  Monuments  pour  servir 
a  Thistoire  de  FEgypte  chretienne,  Histoire  de  S.  Pakhome 
(Annales  du  Musee  Guimet,  T.  17,  1889). 

Basil :  Basilius,  Ascetica  and  Regulae,  Migne,  Patr.  Graec, 
31,  these  Regulae  being  the  so-called  Regulae  fusius  tractatae 
(A)  and  Regulae  brevius  tractatae  (B).  They  extend  from 
col.  890  to  col.  1306  in  the  above  volume  of  Migne.  They 
were  translated  into  Latin  and  abridged  by  Rufinus,  Hoi- 


APPENDIX  371 

stenius,  Codex  Regularum,  I.  See  also  on  Basil,  De  Broglie, 
L'Eglise  et  l'Empire,  Vol.  V,  p.  167;  Paul  Allard,  Saint 
Basile  avant  son  episcopat,  Rev.  des  questions  historiques, 
Vol.  64  (1898),  pp.  5-52. 

On  early  Western  Monasticism  (besides  general  ivories  referred 
to  above)  :  Cassianus,  De  Institutes  Coenobiorum  et  Conloca- 
tiones,  ed.  Petschenig,  Vols.  XIII  and  XVII  of  Vienna  Cor- 
pus Scrip.  Ecc.  Lat.,  also  trans,  in  Vol.  XI  of  Xicene  Fathers, 
2d  Series;  Sulpicius  Severus,  Vita  S.  Martini,  Epistolae, 
Dialogi,  Migne,  Patr.  Lat.,  20,  trans.  Xicene  Fathers,  Second 
Series,  XI  ;  Augustine,  Epistola  211 ;  Jerome,  Epistolae, 
Migne,  Pat.  Lat.,  22,  trans.  Xicene  Fathers,  Second  Series, 
VI ;  Regula  of  Caesarius  of  Aries,  Holstenius,  Codex  Regu- 
larum, I:  Regula  of  Columbanus,  Migne,  Patr.  Lat.,  80; 
Benedicti,  Regula  Monachorum,  printed  with  commentaries 
in  Migne,  Patr.  Lat.,  QQy  critical  edition  by  Woelfflin  (Teub- 
ner,  1895)  ;  Woelfflin,  Benedikt  von  Xursia  und  seine  Monch- 
regel,  Sitz.  Berichte  der  Bayer.  Akad.,  Philol.-Philos.  Classe, 
1895;  Griitzmacher,  Bedeutung  Benedikts  v.  Xursia  (1892); 
S.  Gregorius  Magnus,  Dialogi,  Epistola  I,  Pastoralis  Regulae 
Liber,  Migne,  Pat.  Lat.,  77. 

CHAPTER  VIH 

Christian  Greek  and  Latin  diction :  H.  A.  A.  Kennedy,  Sources 
of  Xew  Testament  Greek  (Edinburgh  1895)  ;  Winer,  Gram- 
matik  des  Xeutestamentlichen  Sprachidioms  (8th  Ed.  by 
Schmiedel,  Gottingen,  1894);  E.  L.  Hicks,  St.  Paul  and 
Hellenism,  Studia  Biblia  et  Ecclesiastica,  IV  (Oxford,  1896)  ; 
Norden,  Die  antike  Kunstprosa  (1898)  ;  E.  A.  Freeman, 
some  points  in  the  later  History  of  the  Greek  language, 
Journal  of  Hellenic  Studies,  3,  pp.  361-392  (1882)  ;  Ronsch, 
Itala  und  Vulgata  (1875)  ;  F.  T.  Cooper,  Word  formation  in 
the  Roman  Sermo  Plebeius  (1895);  Monceaux,  Le  Latin 
Vulgaire,  Rev.  de  deux  mondes,  July  15,  1891 ;  ib.9  Les  Afri- 


372  APPENDIX 

cains,  etude  sur  la  litterature  latine  d'Afrique  (Paris,  1894); 
E.  W.  Watson,  The  Style  and  Language  of  St.  Cyprian, 
Studia  Biblia  et  Ecclesiastica,  IV  (Oxford,  1896.  Mr.  Watson 
discusses  Cyprian's  rhymes  and  alliteration  and  the  relations 
of  his  style  to  Apuleius,  on  pp.  194,  196,  201,  217,  240)  ; 
Overbeck,  Uber  die  Anfange  der  patristischen  Literatur, 
Historische  Zeitschrift,  Xeue  Folge,  XII  (1882) ;  Reignier, 
La  Latinite  des  Sermons  de  St.  Augustine  (1886)  ;  Goelzer, 
La  Latinite  de  St.  Jerome  (1882). 

Early  Christian  prose  literature :  Ebert,  Allegemeine  Ge- 
schichte  der  Literatur  des  Mittelalters,  I  (2d  Ed.,  1889.  There 
is  also  a  French  translation  of  this  work)  ;  Cruttwell,  Literary 
History  of  Latin  Christian  Literature  (1893)  ;  Harnack, 
Geschichte  des  Altchristlichen  Literatur  bis  Eusebius  (1893- 
1897)  ;  Teuffel-Schwabe,  Geschichte  der  Rbmischen  Literatur ; 
Battifol,  Les  anciens  litteratures  chretiennes,  La  litterature 
Grecque,  (2d  Ed.,  Paris,  1898)  ;  Rubens  Duval,  La  littera- 
ture Syriaque  (Paris,  1899)  ;  Boissier,  La  fin  du  Paganisme 
(2d  Ed.,  1894)  ;  Ozanam,  La  Civilisation  au  V*  Siecle  (4th 
Ed.,  1873)  ;  E.  Hatch,  Influence  of  Greek  Ideas  upon  the 
Christian  Church  (Hibbert  Lectures,  1888). 

The  Apostolic  Fathers  (Clement  of  Rome,  Ignatius,  Poly- 
carp),  Ed.  etc.,  J.  B.  Lightfoot  (1889-1890),  a  monumental 
work. 

On  Christian  apologetic  writings:  Article  "Apologists"  in 
Smith  and  Wace's  Dictionary  of  Christian  Biography; 
Keim,  Celsus'  wahres  Wort :  alteste  Streitschrift  antiker 
Weltanschauung  gegen  das  Christenthum  vom  Jahr  178  n. 
Chr.  (Zurich,  1873). 

The  "  Octavius"  of  Minucius  Felix:  Boissier,  Fin  du  Paga- 
nisme, Vol.  I,  Book  III,  Ch.  II ;  Norden,  Die  antike  Kunst- 
prosa,  p.  605. 

Tertullian:  Norden,  Die  antike  Kunstprosa,  pp.  605-615, 
943;  Boissier,  Fin  du  Paganisme,  I,  pp.  221-259;  Ebert, 
Allge.  Gesch.,  etc.,  Bd.  I,  pp.  32-56 ;   Monceaux,  Le  Latin 


APPENDIX  373 

Vulgaire,  Rev.  des  deux  mondes,  July  15,  1891  (Vol.  106), 
pp.  441,  442  ;  ft.,  Les  Africains,  etc. 

Augustine:  I)e  doctrina  Christiana:  Reignier,  La  Latinite 
des  Sermons  de  St.  Augustine  (Paris,  1886) ;  Ebert,  Allg. 
Ges.,  etc.,  I ;  Boissier,  Fin  du  Paganisme,  II,  pp.  293-337. 

Jerome  (letters)  :  Ebert,  op.  cit.,  I ;  also  Jerome's  De  Viris 
Illustribus,  c.  135,  where  it  appears  that  he  edited  the  let- 
ters himself.  Interesting  examples  of  Jerome's  letters  are : 
Nos.  3,  14,  22,  39,  45,  60,  70,  77. 

Orosius :  Pauli  Orosii  historiarum  adversus  paganos  libri 
VII,  ed.  Zangemeister,  Vienna  Corp.  Script.  Lat.  Eccl.,  Vol. 
V  (1882).  For  list  of  early  writers  using  Orosius,  see  Zange- 
meister's  Edition,  p.  701.  Orosius  in  Dante:  E.  Moore,  Dante 
and  Orosius,  pp.  279-282 ;  Studies  in  Dante,  First  Series ; 
also  article  "  Orosio,"  in  Toynbee's  Dante  Diet.  ;  and  Toyn- 
bee,  Dante's  Obligation  to  Orosius,  Romania,  XXIV,  pp. 
385-398. 

Apocryphal  Gospels  and  Acts:  Tischendorf,  Evangelia 
Apocrypha  (1851) ;  Thilo,  Codex  apocryphus  Novi  Testa- 
ment! (1832) ;  Tischendorf,  Acta  apostolorum  apocrypha 
(1851)  ;  Apocryphal  Gospels  and  Acts,  trans,  by  Alex. 
Walker  (T.  and  T.  Clark;  reprinted  in  Vol.  VIII,  Ante- 
Xicene  Fathers)  ;  The  Apocryphal  Gospels,  trans,  by  B.  H. 
Cowper,  6th  Ed.  (David  Xutt,  London,  1897) ;  Lipsius, 
Die  Apokryphen  Apostelgeschichten  und  Apostellegenden 
(1883)  ;  Cruttwell,  Literary  History  of  Early  Christianity, 
pp.  151-180;  Smith's  and  Wace's  Diet,  of  Christian  Biog- 
raphy, articles,  "  Acts  of  the  Apostles  "  (apocryphal),  "  Gos- 
pels "  (apocryphal)  ;  Boissier,  Fin  du  Paganisme,  Book  IV, 
Chap.  I;  Ramsay,  The  Church  in  the  Roman  Empire,  Chap. 
XVI.  For  Syriac  versions,  see  R.  Duval,  La  litterature 
Syriaque,  pp.  89-120  (Paris,  1899). 

Their  influence  upon  mediaeval  literature:  Cowper,  Apoc- 
ryphal Gospels,  Introduction ;  P.  Piper,  Die  geistliche  Dicht- 
ung  des  Mittelalters,  erster  Theil,  p.  17,  zweiter  Theil,  p.  2, 


374  APPENDIX 

and  passim  (1888,  Deutsche  Nat.  Lit.) ;  H.  Morley,  English 
Writers,  Vol.  II,  pp.  180-192,  195,  198,  210,  236-243 ;  Root, 
Andreas,  the  legend  of  St.  Andrew  (New  York,  1899) ; 
Ramhorst,  Das  Altenglische  Gedicht  vom  heiligen  Andreas 
(Berlin,  1885)  ;  Fritzsche,  Angelsachsische  Gedicht  Andreas 
und  Cynewulf  (Halle,  1879)  ;  Petit  de  Julleville,  Histoire 
de  la  langue  et  de  la  lit.  francaise,  I,  pp.  15, 16  ;  A.  d'Ancona, 
La  leggenda  di  vergogna  o  la  leggenda  di  Giuda  (Bologna, 
1869)  ;  Chabaneau,  Le  Roman  de  saint  Fanuel  et  sainte 
Anne  (Paris,  1888) ;  A.  Mussafia,  Studien  zu  den  Mittel- 
alterlichen  Marienlegenden  (Vienna,  1887-1889)  ;  Du  Meril, 
Poesies  latines  populaires,  Vol.  II,  pp.  315-368  (poems  on 
Pilate  and  Judas),  Legenda  Aurea  of  Jacopo  da  Vorragine 
{e.g.,  legends  of  Andrew  and  Bartholomew)  ;  W.  H.  Hulme, 
Old  English  (Anglo-Saxon)  Version  of  the  Gospel  of  Nico- 
demus  (Publications  of  the  Modern  Language  Association 
of  America,  1898) ;  Trois  versions  rimees  de  l'Evangile 
de  Nicodeme,  Gaston  Paris  and  A.  Bos  (1885,  Soc.  des 
Anciens  Textes  Franc.)  ;  Das  Evangelium  Nicodemi  in  der 
abendl'andischen  Literatur,  R.  P.  "Wulcher  (Marburg,  1872)  ; 
II  passio  o  vangelo  di  Nicodemo  volgarizzato,  G.  Romagnoli, 
(Bologna,  1862). 

Their  use  in  mediaeval  art:  Male,  L'Art  religieux  du  XIIIe 
siecle,  pp.  265  sqq.,  376  sqq. ;  Kraus,  Geschichte  der  christ- 
lichen  Kunst,  II,  p.  358  (1895) ;  Kondakoff,  L'Histoire  de 
l'Art  Byzantine,  p.  400  (mosaic  on  triumphal  arch  of  S. 
Maria  Maggiore). 

Medicevalizing  of  Latin :  Gregory  of  Tours,  Historia  Fran- 
corum ;  G.  Kurth,  St.  Gregoire  de  Tours  et  les  Etudes  clas- 
siques,  Rev.  des  questions  historiques,  October,  1878;  Max 
Bonnet,  Le  Latin  de  Gregoire  de  Tours,  1890  (reviewed  in 
La  Moyen  Age  for  January,  1896) ;  V.  S.  Clark,  Studies 
in  the  Latin  of  the  Middle  Ages  and  the  Renaissance  (Lan- 
caster, Pa.,  1900). 


APPENDIX  375 


CHAPTER  IX 


Beginnings  of  Christian  poetry  and  accentual  verse  :  Bouvy, 
Poetes  et  Melodes ;  etude  sur  les  origines  du  rythme  tonique 
dans  l'hymnographie  de  Teglise  grecque  (Nimes,  1886) ; 
Ebert,  Allgemeine  Geschichte  der  Literatur  des  Mittelalters, 
Vol.  I,  2d  Ed.  (1889) ;  Norden,  Die  antike  Kunstprosa 
(1898) ;  W.  Meyer,  Anfang  und  Ursprung  der  lateinischen 
und  griechischen  rythmischen  Dichtung,  Bayerisch.  Akad., 
Philos.-Philol.  Classe,  Bd.  XVII  (1886),  pp.  265-450  ;  Krum- 
bacher,  Geschichte  der  Byzantinischen  Literatur  (2d  Ed., 
1896) ;  Hubert  Grimme,  Strophenbau  in  den  Gedichten 
Ephraems  des  Syrers  (1893) ;  M.  Kawczynski,  Essai  com- 
paratif  sur  l'origine  et  l'histoire  des  rythmes  (1889) ;  W. 
Meyer,  Uber  die  lateinischen  rhythmen  des  XII  Jahrhun- 
derts,  Sitz.  berich.  Bayrisch.  Akad.,  Philos.-Philol.  Classe 
(1882) ;  W.  Christ,  Anthologia  Graeca  Carminum  Christian- 
orum  (1871);  Pitra,  Analecta  Sacra,  Spicilegio  Solesmensi, 
I  (1876) ;  Clement  of  Alexandria,  hymn  at  the  end  of  Paeda- 
gogus,  Migne,  Patr.  Graec,  8,  col.  681 ;  Methodius,  Sympo- 
sium of  the  Ten  Virgins,  Migne,  Patr.  Graec,  18  (trans,  in 
Ante-Nicene  Fathers,  VI) ;  Usener,  Altgriechischer  Versbau 
(1887). 

Verse  structure  of  Romanos'  hymns:  W.  Meyer,  Anfang, 
etc.,  p.  328,  etc.;  Krumbacher,  Gesch.  Byz.  Lit.,  2d  Ed., 
pp.  694-702 ;  ib.,  Studien  zu  Romanos,  Sitz.  berichte  Bay- 
rischen  Akad.,  Philos.-Philol.  Classe,  18982  (for  variations 
from  the  rule  of  correspondence  between  hirmos  and  stro- 
phes) ;  Bouvy,  Poetes,  etc.,  pp.  258  et.  seq.,  and  pp.  355-360. 
Text  of  Romanos :  Pitra,  Analecta  Sacra,  Spicilegio  Soles- 
mensi, I,  and  Christ's  Anthol.  Graec.  A  critical  edition  by 
Krumbacher  is  expected. 

Oracula  Sibyllina :  Alexandre,  Oracula  Sibyllina  (2d  Ed., 
1869);  the  same,  edited  by  Rzach  (Leipsic,  1891)  ;  article  on 
Sibylline  Oracles,  Edinburgh  Rev.,  July,  1877 ;   H.  Ewald, 


376  APPENDIX 

Abhandkmg  iiber  Entstehung,  etc.,der  Sibyllinischen  Biicher 
(1858) ;  L.  Friedlander,  La  Sibylle  Juive,  Rev.  des  Etudes 
Juives,  29,  p.  183  (1894);  Boissier,  La  Fin  du  Paganisme 
(2d  Ed.,  1894) ;  Rzach,  Kritische  Studien  zu  den  Sibyllin- 
ischen Orakeln,  Denkschriften  der  Wiener  Akad.,  Phil.-Hist. 
Classe,  Vol.  38,  1890;  Rzach,  Metrischen  Studien  zu  den 
Sibyllinischen  Orakeln,  Sitzungsberichte  Wiener  Akad., 
Phil.-Hist.  Classe,  Vol.  126  (1891). 

Vol.  II  of  Alexandre's  first  edition  (1856)  of  Oracula 
Sibyllina  is  made  up  of  VII  Excursus  with  appendices. 

Ex.  I  on  the  Sibyls,  and  App.  ad  Ex.  I,  give  the  principal 
classical  and  late  classical  citations,  e.g.,  Varro  apud  Lactan- 
tium,  Lib.  I,  Cap.  6,  which  mentions  10  Sibyls,  —  de  Persis, 
Libyssam,  Delphida,  Cimmeriam,  Erythraeam,  Samiam,  Cu- 
manam,  Hellespontiam,  Phrygiam,  Tiburtem  (accusatives). 

Ex.  II  De  Sib.  Carm.  apud  Graecos  veteres. 

Ex.  Ill  is  the  history  of  the  old  Sibylline  books  till  their 
destruction  by  order  of  Stilicho  under  Honorius. 

Ex.  IV  De  Sib.  carminibus  apud  veteres  Christianos, 
showing  the  many  references  to  the  Sibyl  in  the  Fathers, 
e.g.,  Justin,  Clement  of  Alexandria,  Lactantius  ;  cf.  Aug.  Civ. 
Dei.  XVIII,  23  (p.  283  of  Ex.),  who  distrusted  their  authen- 
ticity. Appendix  ad  Ex.  IV  is  "  De  medii  aevi  Sibyllinis  "; 
references  by  Luitprand  (10  Cent.),  Bede  (follows  Lactan- 
tius), Bedae  Opera,  Tom.  2,  and  others;  also  in  Bernard's 
hymn  for  Christmas  day  :  — 

Si  non  suis  votibus 
Credat  vel  gentilibus 
Sibyllinis  versibus 
Haec  praedicta. 


and  in  the 


Dies  Irae,  dies  ilia 
Solvet  saeclum  in  favilla, 
Teste  David  cum  Sibylla. 


APPENDIX  377 

The  Middle  Ages  added  two  Sibyls,  Europaea  and  Agrippa, 
described  as  to  garments  with  detail  in  libro  Chronicarum, 
Venet.  1493.  See  Alexandre,  Ex.  I,  Cap.  XVI,  and  app.  ad 
Ex.  IV,  pp.  301,  302,  303.  See  *'/;.,  pp.  303-311,  as  to  legend 
connected  with  S.  M.  Ara  Coeli  in  Rome  and  among  Bene- 
dictines and  Fratres  Minores. 

Wolfram  von  Eschenbach,  Parzival  IX,  983,  1471,  refers 
to  the  Sibyl  as  a  prophetess.  This  is  an  important  proof  of 
the  widespread  fame  of  the  Sibyl  in  the  Middle  Ages,  for 
Wolfram,  though  a  great  poet,  was  illiterate.  For  the  Sibyls 
in  mediaeval  art,  see  post,  p.  388. 

Origins  of  church  music:  Gevaart,  La  Melopee  antique 
dans  le  chant  de  l'eglise  latine  (1895)  ;  ib.,  Les  Origines  du 
chant  liturgique  de  Teglise  latine  (1890)  ;  Brambach,  Grego- 
rianisch  Bibliograph.  Losung  der  streitfrage  uber  den  Ur- 
sprung  des  Gregorianischen  Gesanges  (Leipsic,  1895) ;  Ebert, 
Geschichte,  etc.,  I  (under  Ambrosius) ;  U.  Chevalier,  Poesie 
Liturgique  du  Moyen  Age  (1893). 

Early  Latin  Christian  Poets 

Commodianus :  Commodiani  carmina,  ed.  Dombart  (Vol. 
XV,  Vienna  Corpus  Eccl.  Script.  Lat.,  1887) ;  Boissier,  Fin, 
etc.,  Vol.  II,  pp.  27-43;  Ebert,  Gesch.,  Vol.  I,  pp.  88-96; 
Dombart,  in  praefatio  to  his  edition  of  Commodianus. 

Hilarius :  S.  Hilarii,  Tractatus  de  Mysteriis  et  Hymni,  ed. 
Garmurrini  (Rome,  1887) ;  St.  Hilary  of  Poictiers,  Xicene 
Fathers,  2d  Series,  Vol.  IX. 

Ambrosius:  His  hymns  are  given  in  the  convenient  little 
book  of  F.  Clement,  Carmina  e  poetis  christianis  excerpta 
(4th  Ed.,  Paris,  1880). 

Juvencus:  Boissier,  Fin,  etc.,  Vol.  II,  who  rather  over- 
appreciates  him ;  Ebert,  Gesch.,  Vol.  I,  2d  Ed.,  pp.  114-121. 
The  best  edition  of  Juvencus  is  by  Hiirner,  Vol.  XXIV  of 
Vienna  Corpus  Script.  Eccl.    This  edition  gives  the  passages 


378  APPENDIX 

from  Virgil  and  other  classic  poets  reflected  by  Juvencus,  as 
well  as  lists  of  later  and  mediaeval  writers  who  use  or  re- 
fer to  him.  For  the  early  translation  into  Latin  hexameters 
of  the  books  of  Moses,  ascribed  by  some  to  Juvencus,  see 
Ebert,  I,  pp.  118-121 ;  and  ib.,  pp.  122-127  for  early  Latin 
Biblical  poems,  De  Sodoma  and  De  Jona  (Edited  Vol.  XXIII 
of  Vienna  Ed.),  and  the  Cento  Virgilianus  of  Proba,  in  which 
the  Old  Testament  story  down  to  the  Flood,  and  the  Gospel 
story,  are  told  in  phrases  culled  from  Virgil.  This  poem  is 
printed  in  Vol.  XVI  of  Vienna  Ed.  of  Scrip.  Eccl.  Orientius  : 
ed.  Ellis  (Vol.  XVI,  Vienna  Corpus  Script.  Eccl.) ;  Paulinus 
Nolanus:  Carmina,  ed.  de  Hartel  (Vienna  Corpus  Script. 
Eccl.,  Vol.  XXX,  1894);  Claudius  Marius  Victor:  Ebert,  I, pp. 
368-373.  His  Alethia  is  edited  by  Schenkl,  Vol.  XVI  of  the 
Vienna  Corpus,  where  the  writer's  reminiscences  of  Virgil, 
Ovid,  Statius,  etc.,  are  noted.  Sedulius:  Sedulii  Opera 
Omnia,  ed.  Hiimer,  Vol.  X,  Vienna  Corpus  Eccl.  Script. 
Lat.  Sedulius  translated  his  Paschale  Carmen  into  prose 
in  his  Paschale  Opus.  See  Ebert,  Gesch.,  I,  pp.  373-383. 
Hiimer's  edition  gives  references  to  authors  used  by  Sedu- 
lius, and  the  host  of  writers  who  read  or  praised  or  imi- 
tated him. 

Prudentius :  Prudentius,  Editio  in  usum  Delphini  (1824)  ; 
Psychomachia,  critical  ed.,  Bergman  (Upsala,  1897) ;  Puech, 
Prudence  (Paris,  1888).  On  the  relation  of  the  Peristepha- 
non  to  any  written  sources,  see  the  references  to  various 
acta  given  at  the  beginning  of  each  hymn  in  the  Editio 
Delphini  of  Prudentius,  also  Ruinart,  Acta  Martyrum  Sin- 
cera  (1713),  pp.  196-215,  218-222,  358-360,  364-373,  457- 
461,  497-500 ;  and  generally,  Puech,  Prudence,  p.  102  et  seq. 
For  literary  criticism  on  the  Cathemerinon  and  Peristepha- 
non,  and  the  literary  relations  of  Prudentius  to  Ambrose  and 
Damasus,  see  Puech,  op  cit.,  p.  80  et  seq.  and  p.  113  et  seq. ; 
Boissier,  Fin  du  Paganisme,  Vol.  II,  pp.  105-151.  For  the 
influence  of  Horace  upon  Prudentius  in  the  hymns  of  the 


APPENDIX  379 

Cathemerinon,  see  Puech,  op.  cit.,  pp.  95-101.  On  the 
metres  of  Prudentius,  see  ib.,  pp.  268-287.  Influence  of 
the  Psychomachia :  Ebert,  Vol.  I,  p.  286 ;  Puech,  op.  cit.y 
pp.  254-256  ;  Bergman,  Psychomachia,  Prolegomena,  XXIX; 
Xorden,  Die  antike  Kunstprosa,  pp.  728-731 ;  influence  upon 
art,  Male,  L'Art  religieux,  etc.,  p.  132  sqq.  For  the  use  of 
Prudentius,  from  Sidonius  Appolinaris  on,  see  Praefatio  to 
Vol.  I,  Cap.  III-V  of  Ed.  Delphini  of  Prudentius;  also 
in  the  back  of  Vol.  Ill  of  same  edition  for  list  of  Prudentius 
Mss. ;  also  R.  Stettimer,  Die  illustrirten  Prudentiushand- 
schriften  (1895).  On  the  polemic  and  didactic  poems  of  Pru- 
dentius :  Puech,  op  cit.,  pp.  159-238.  Other  important  didactic 
poems  of  the  fifth  century  are  :  Carmen  de  Providentia  Divina, 
of  uncertain  authorship,  but  of  the  beginning  of  the  fifth 
century.  The  poem  consists  of  forty-eight  elegiac  couplets, 
followed  by  875  hexameters.  The  author  discusses  the  ruin 
caused  by  the  invasions,  and  seeks  to  vindicate  the  gover- 
nance of  God,  as  against  any  who  should  doubt  it.  See 
Clement,  Carmina,  etc.,  for  this  poem,  p.  148,  and  Ebert,  Ges., 
I,  pp.  316-320.  Commonitorium  fidelibus  by  Orientius,  writ- 
ten near  the  middle  of  the  fifth  century.  A  didactic  poem 
for  the  moral  guidance  of  Christians,  composed  of  two  books 
of  elegiacs  respectively  of  618  and  418  lines,  contained  in 
Vol.  XVI  of  Vienna  Corpus  Script.  Eccl.,  and  see  Ebert,  Ges., 
I,  pp.  410-413.  De  Ingratis  of  Prosper  of  Aquitaine,  written 
about  429  a.d.,  and  containing  about  one  thousand  hexam- 
eters. It  was  a  controversial  poem,  directed  against  Pela- 
gianism.  See  Ebert,  Ges.,  I,  p.  367.  Ausonius :  Ebert,  I, 
pp.  294-301 ;  Bossier,  Fin  du  Paganisme,  II,  pp.  66,  67. 
Apollinaris  Sidonius :  Ebert,  I,  pp.  419-428.  His  works  are 
published  in  Vol.  VIII  of  Monumenta  Germ.  His  letters 
are  a  mine  of  information  as  to  manners  and  society.  See 
Hodgkin,  Italy  and  her  Invaders,  Book  III,  Chap.  Ill,  Vol. 
II  (1892)  ;  also  Dill,  Roman  Society  in  the  Last  Century 
of  the  Western  Empire,  Book  II,  Chap.  IV  (1898).     He  re- 


380  APPENDIX 

mained  a  favorite  with  the  learned  poets  of  the  Middle  Ages. 
Ennodius:  Ebert,  I,  pp.  432—143.  Dracontii  Carmina  minora, 
ed.  Duhn  (Teubner,  1873),  also  in  Migne,  Patr.  Lat.,  60; 
AvitiiSy  opera  ed.  Peiper,  Vol.  VI,  Monumenta  Germanica. 
Fortunatus :  an  important  poet:  Venanti  Fortunati  Opera, 
ed.  Leo  and  Krusch  (Mon.  Germ.  Auct.  Antiquiss.,  IV). 

For  the  Carlovingian  Age  the  most  important  collection 
of  poetry  is  that  of  Diimmler  and  Tranbe,  Poetae  Latini 
Medii  Aevi,  Poetae  Latini  Aevi  Carolini,  I-IV  (Mon.  Germ., 
1880-).  An  interesting  collection  of  mediaeval  Latin  poetry 
is  E.  Dn  Meril's  Poesies  populaires  Latines  anterieures  au 
12*  siecle  (Paris,  1843).  See  also  Mai,  Auctores  Classici 
(1823-1838).  Waltarius,  ed.  Scheffel  and  Holder  (Stnttgart, 
1874),  also  in  Du  Meril,  Poesies  Latines,  etc.,  I,  pp.  313- 
377;  F.  Seiler,  Ruodlieb,  der  alteste  Roman  des  Mittelalters 
(Halle,  1882).  On  Hrotsvitha  and  the  break  between  the 
antique  and  the  mediaeval  drama :  Ebert,  Allge.  Ges.,  Ill,  p. 
314  sqq. ;  Boissier,  Les  tragedies  de  Seneque  ont  elles  ete 
representees  (Paris,  1861)  ;  Pichon,  Histoire  de  la  Littera- 
ture  Latine  (Paris,  1898) ;  Teuffel-Schwabe,  Geschichte  der 
Romsichen  Literatur;  Petit  de  Jnlleville,  Histoire  de  la 
lanque  et  de  la  litterature  francaise,  Vol.  II,  pp.  399—445 
(1896) ;  ib.9  Les  Mysteres  (18S0)  ;  Lanson,  Histoire  de  la  lit- 
terature francaise,  pp.  124-216  (Paris,  1898)  ;  Froning,  Das 
Drama  des  Mittelalters  (Deut.  Nat.  Lit.)  ;  Scherer,  Hist,  of 
German  Lit.,  I,  pp.  238-245  (English  Translation,  New 
York,  1886)  ;  Toynbee,  Dante's  Obligations  to  the  Magnae 
Derivationes  of  Uguccione  da  Pisa,  Romania,  XXVI  (1897)  ; 
Spingarn,  Literary  Criticism  in  the  Renaissance  (Xew  York, 
1899). 

Carmina  Burana:  Lateinische  und  Deutsche  Gedichte 
einer  Handschrift  des  XIII  Jahrhunderts,  ed.  by  Schmeller 
(Stuttgart,  1847,  reprinted  Breslau,  1883)  ;  Carmina  Burana 
Selecta,  ed.,  with  bibliography,  by  von  Barnstein  (Wiirz- 
burg,  1879)  ;  The  Latin  poems  commonly  attributed  to  Wal- 


APPENDIX  381 

ter  Mapes,  ed.  by  T.  Wright  (London,  1851) ;  Langlois,  La 
Litterature  Goliardique,  Revue  Bleue,  Dec.  24,  1892,  and 
Feb.  11,  1893. 

On  the  derivation  of  romance  verse  from  Latin  accentual 
verse:  Jeanroy,  Les  Origines  de  la  Poesie  lyrique  en  France, 
p.  356  (1889) ;  Gaston  Paris,  Romania,  XIII,  p.  622 ;  ib.,  La 
Litterature  Franchise  au  Moyen  Age,  p.  12  (2d  Ed.,  1890)  ; 
Leon  Gautier  in  Petit  de  Julleville's  Histoire  de  la  lit.,  etc., 
francaise,  Vol.  I,  p.  112  ;  Cledat,  La  Poesie  lyrique  et  satirique 
en  France  au  Moyen  Age,  p.  16  (1893)  ;  M.  Kawczynski, 
L'Origine  et  l'histoire  des  rythmes,  Chap.  IX  (Paris,  1889), 

On  the  early  forms  of  Teutonic  verse  and  the  adoption  of 
rhyme  under  the  influence  of  Latin  and  romance  poetry:  Xor- 
den,  Die  antike  Kunstprosa,  p.  810  ;  Wackernagel,  Gesch.  der 
Deutschen  Xat.  Lit.  I2,  §  30,  1879 ;  Koberstein,  Gesch.  der 
Deut.  Xat.  Lit.,  1,  §  28  (1872)  ;  Koegel,  Geschichte  der  Deut- 
schen Literatur,  Bd.  I,  Theil  I,  p.  204,  and  passim  (1894- 
1897). 

Effect  of  Christianity  on  the  German  language:  R.  von 
R'aumer,  Die  Einwirkung  des  Christenthums  auf  die  althoch- 
deutsche  Sprache  (Stuttgart,  1845)  ;  Weinhold,  Die  gotische 
sprache  im  Dienste  des  Kristenthums  (Halle,  1870)  ;  P.  Piper, 
Die  alteste  deutsche  Literatur  (Deutsche  Xat.  Lit.),  pp.  1, 
42,  43. 

On  the  Saxon  Genesis  and  Old  German  Heliand:  Die  alt- 
sachische  Bibeldichtung,  Heliand  und  Genesis,  Denkmaler 
der  alteren  deutschen  Literatur,  ed.  Paul  Piper  (1897),  con- 
tains full  German  bibliography;  Ten  Brink,  Early  English 
Literature,  trans,  by  Kennedy  (1883)  ;  Henry  Morley,  Eng- 
lish Writers,  Vol.  II  (2d  Ed.,  1887)  ;  Paul  Piper,  Die"  alteste 
deutsche  Literatur  (Deutsche  Xat.  Lit.). 

On  Anglo-Saxon  riddles  and  their  antecedents :  Ebert,  Uber 
die  R'athselpoesie  der  Angels'achsen,  Berichte  der  S'ach- 
sischen  Gesellschaft,  Phil.-Hist.  Classe,  1877.  Ebert  prints 
in  this   paper  the   aenigmata   of   Tatwine    and   Eusebius. 


382  APPENDIX 

Also,  Ebert,  Allge.  Ges.,  I,  under  Aldhelm  and  Bonifatius. 
The  Aenigmata  of  Aldhelm  are  printed  in  Migne,  Pat.  Lat., 
Vol.  89,  col.  185  et  seq. ;  also  in  Wright's  Anglo-Latin  Satirical 
Poets,  Vol.  II,  Appendix  II  (Vol.  59,  Master  of  Rolls  publi- 
cations). See  Vol.  I  of  that  work,  Introd.,  pp.  xii-xv,  for  the 
relations  of  Anglo-Saxon  writers  to  Symposius ;  and  on  the 
Anglo-Saxon  riddles  attributed  to  Cynewulf,  see  Morley, 
English  Writers,  Vol.  2,  pp.  217-226  (2d  Ed.,  1887). 

CHAPTER  X 

Evolution  of  church  architecture:  Choisy,  Histoire  de 
l'architecture  (1899) ;  Dehio  and  Bezold,  Die  kirchliche 
Baukunst  des  Abendlandes  (1892)  ;  V.  Schultze,  Altchrist- 
liche  Archaologie  (1895) ;  F.  X.  Kraus,  Geschichte  der 
christlichen  Kunst  (Freiburg  in  Breisgau,  1895-) ;  Bald- 
win Brown,  From  Schola  to  Cathedral  (1886)  ;  Lange,  Haus 
und  Halle  (1885) ;  Schnaase,  Geschichte  der  bildenden 
Kunste,  2d  Ed. ;  Hittorff,  Architecture  moderne  de  la  Sicile 
(1835)  ;  Otte,  Geschichte  der  Romanischen  Baukunst  (1874); 
R.  Rosieres,  L'Evolution  de  I'architecture  en  France  (Petite 
bib.  d'art,  etc.)  ;  Didron,  Iconographie  chretienne  (1813) ; 
C.  H.  Moore,  Development  and  Character  of  Gothic  Archi- 
tecture (2d  Ed.,  Macmillan,  1899). 

Antique  Christian  painting  and  sculpture;  interpretation  of 
biblical  scenes:  Schultze,  Archaologie,  pp.  180-185;  Kraus, 
Geschichte,  etc.,  p.  65  et  seq.;  Hennecke,  Altchristliche 
Malerei  (1896)  ;  Hasenclever,  Altchristliche  Graberschmuck 
(1886);  Garrucci,  Storia  della  Arte  Cristiana  (Prato,  1873- 
1881) ;  De  Rossi,  La  Roma  Sotterranea  Cristiana  (1864- 
1877) ;  Muntz,  fitudes  sur  la  peinture  et  de  l'iconographie 
chretiennes  (1886) ;  Le  Blant,  Sarcophages  chretiennes  de 
la  Gaule  (1886)  ;  ib.,  Sarcophages  chretiennes  de  la  Ville 
d' Aries  (1878);  ih.,  in  Revue  Archeologique,  1875,  1876; 
Ficker,  Die  altchristlichen  Bildwerke  im  Christlichen  Mu- 


APPENDIX  383 

seum  des  Laterans  (1800) ;  £&.,  Die  Bedeutung  der  altchrist- 
lichen  Dichtungen  fiir  die  Bildwerke  (Gesammelte  Studien- 
Festgabe  fiir  Anton  Springer,  1885)  ;  A.  Perate,  L'Archeolo- 
gie  chretienne  (Bib.  de  PEnseignment  des  Beaux-arts,  1892), 
Woltmann  and  Woermann,  History  of  Painting  (Eng.  Trans., 
1880);  Wickhoff,  Roman  Art  (London,  1900). 

Byzantine  art:  There  exists  no  sufficient  history  of  Byzan- 
tine art,  i.e.  a  history  based  upon  an  exhaustive  examination 
of  monuments  and  documents,  which  shall  trace  the  origin 
and  development  of  this  art  from  the  foundation  of  Con- 
stantinople to  the  seventh  century,  its  course  through  the 
times  of  the  Iconoclastic  controversy,  and  then  the  period 
of  revival  from  the  tenth  to  the  twelfth  century,  and  its 
final  decline.  The  work  must  include  architecture,  sculp- 
ture, mosaic,  and  miniature  painting.  Only  such  a  history 
can  form  the  proper  starting-point  for  the  study  of  the  influ- 
ence of  Byzantine  art  upon  the  various  countries  of  the 
West.  The  Byzantine  question  is  no  single  general  problem. 
The  existence  of  that  art  is  indisputable  and  also  the  fact 
that  it  influenced  the  West.  The  questions  are,  What 
countries  of  the  West  were  influenced,  how  strongly,  when, 
and  in  what  branches  of  art?  Should  Byzantine  influence 
upon  the  art  of  any  particular  Western  land  be  divided 
chronologically  into  periods,  or  separated  and  classified  ac- 
cording to  localities  and  schools  ?  Cf.  E.  Dobbert,  Zur 
Byzantinischen  Frage,  Jahrbuch  der  Konigl.  Preuss.  Kunst- 
sammlungen,  Vol.  XV,  pp.  125,  211,  and  229.  For  a  general 
conception  of  the  origin  and  character  of  Byzantine  art,  see 
Strzygowski,  in  Byzantinische  Zeitschrift,  1892,  pp.  61-73. 

The  most  serviceable  general  work  is  Bayers  L'Art 
Byzantin  (Bibl.  de  PEnseignment  des  Beaux-arts).  Kon- 
dakoff,  Histoire  de  PArt  Byzantin  (1886-1892),  affords  a 
history  of  miniature  ;  Diehl,  L'Art  Byzantin  dans  Pltalie 
Meridionale  (1894),  is  a  satisfactory  discussion  of  Byzantine 
painting  there;   R.  Cattaneo,  L'Architettura  in  Italia  dal 


384  APPENDIX 

sec.  VI  al  mille  circa  (1889),  is  an  exposition  of  the  influence 
of  the  Greeks  on  architectural  sculpture  (there  are  French 
and  English  translations  of  this  work) ;  Bayet,  Recherches 
pour  servir  a  l'histoire  de  la  Peinture  et  de  la  Sculpture 
chretiennes  en  orient  avant  la  querelle  des  Iconoclastes 
(1879,  Bib.  des  Ec.  Franc.  d'Athenes,  etc.),  contains  much  of 
interest.  Important  material  is  contained  in  Strzygowski's 
Byzantinische  Denkmaler,  Bd.  I  and  II  (1891-1S93).  See 
also,  generally,  Schnaase,  Geschichte  der  Bildenden  Kunste, 
Bd.  Ill,  Buch  II;  Kraus,  Geschichte  der  christlichen 
Kunst,  Bd.  I,  pp.  538-590;  Bd.  II,  pp.  77-97;  A.  Springer, 
Introduction  to  Kondakoff's  work ;  also  ib.,  Die  Byzantinische 
Kunst  und  ihr  Einnuss  im  Abenlande  (Bilder  aus  der  neueren 
Kunstgeschichte) ;  Choisy,  Histoire  de  l'architecture,  Vol. 
II,  pp.  7-15.  40-86,  210-257;  G.  Aitchison,  Byzantine  Archi- 
tecture, Trans.  Royal  Inst.  British  Architects,  Vol.  VIII, 
X.S.  221-264;  Didron  and  Darand,  Manuel  d'iconographie 
chretienne  grecque  et  latine  (18-15),  sometimes  referred  to 
as  i;  Guide  de  la  Peinture,"  or  the  "  Byzantine  Guide  to 
Painting";  the  original  was  published  in  Greek  by  Kon- 
stantinides,  under  the  name  of  'Ep/xr/veCa  twv  £arypa<£wv ; 
German  trans,  by  G.  Schaefer  (1855)  and  English  trans,  of 
the  most  important  part  by  Margaret  Stokes,  in  the  second 
volume  of  her  trans,  of  Didron's  Christian  Iconography 
(Bohn,  1886);  Fr.  Lenormant,  La  Grande  Grece  (2d  Ed., 
1881-1884) ;  Salazaro,  Studi  sui  Monumenti  della  Italia 
meridionale  dal  4°  al  13°  secolo  (1871-1877)  ;  Muntz,  Les 
Artists  Byzantins  dans  l'Europe  latine,  Rev.  de  Tart  chret., 
XXXVI  (1893);  A.  L.  Frothingham,  Byzantine  Artists 
in  Italy,  Am.  Journal  of  Archaeology,  IX  (1894) ;  Kraus,  Die 
Wandgem'alde  von  S.  Angelo  in  Formis,  Jahrbuch  der 
Preus.  Kunstsammlungen  (1893);  Dobbert,  the  same,  in  ib., 
1S94;  Collignon,  Histoire  de  la  Sculpture  Grecque  (1892); 
Ernest  Gardner,  Handbook  of  Greek  Sculpture  (1896) ;  Jex- 
Blake  and  Sellers,  Pliny's  chapters  on  the  History  of  Art 
(1896). 


APPENDIX  385 

On  the  doors  ofS.  Sabina:  Perate,  Archeologie  chretienne, 
p.  330;  Kondakoff,  Les  Sculptures  de  la  porte  de  Sainte- 
Sabine  (Kev.  Archeologique,  1S77);  Strzygowski,  Das  Ber- 
liner Moses-Relief  und  die  Thiiren  von  Sta.  Sabina  in  Rom, 
Jahrbuch  der  K.  Preuss.  Kunstsamm.,  Bd.  14,  1893;  Berthier, 
La  Porte  de  Sainte  Sabine  a  Rome  (1892) ;  Garrucci,  Vol.  VI. 

The  mosaics  at  Rome  and  Ravenna  are  discussed  in  all 
works  treating  of  early  christian  art  or  archaeology.  See,  e.g., 
Gerspach,  La  Mosaique ;  Perate,  L'Archeologie  chretienne ; 
Clausse,  Basiliques  et  Mosaiques  chretiennes  (Paris,  1893)  ; 
Kraus,  Geschichte  der  christlichen  Kunst ;  Schultze,  Arch'a- 
ologie  der  altchristlichen  Kunst ;  also  the  works  of  E.  Miintz 
on  the  subject :  Notes  sur  les  mosaiques  chretiennes  de 
Tltalie,  in  Revue  Archeologique  from  1874  on  ;  The  Lost 
Mosaics  of  Rome,  American  Journal  of  Archaeology,  1890 ; 
La  Mosaique  chretienne  pendant  les  premiers  siecles,  Me- 
moires  de  la  Societe  des  Antiquaires  de  France,  Vol.  2, 
Series  VI  (1892)  ;  J.  P.  Richter,  Die  Mosaiken  von  Ravenna ; 
E.  K.  Redin,  Die  Mosaiken  der  Ravennatischen  Kirchen. 
The  best  reproductions  and  most  exhaustive  discussion  of 
the  mosaics  at  Rome  are  in  De  Rossi's  great  work,  Musaici 
cristiani  (1876-1894) ;  Garrucci,  Storia  del  Arte  Christiana, 
Vol.  IV,  contains  the  mosaics  of  both  Rome  and  Ravenna ; 
La  Revue  de  Tart  chretienne  for  1896  and  1897  has  elaborate 
articles  on  the  Ravenna  mosaics  by  Barbier  de  Montault. 

On  the  mosaics  and  monuments  of  Palermo,  Monreale,  Ceph- 
alu :  Clausse,  Basiliques  et  Mosaiques  chretiennes,  II,  pp  27- 
131  ;  Hittorff,  Architecture  Moderne  de  la  Sicile  (1835); 
G.  de  Marzo,  Delle  belle  arti  in  Sicilia  (1858) ;  A.  Dehli, 
Norman  Monuments  of  Palermo  and  Environs  (1892) ; 
Springer,  Die  mittelalterliche  Kunst  in  Palermo  (Bilder, 
aus  der  neueren  Kunstgeschichte,  1886).  For  examples  of 
fine  Roman  mosaics  ornamenting  pavements,  said  to  be 
of  the  second  century,  see  P.  Gaukler,  Les  Mosaiques 
de  T Arsenal  a  Sousse,  Revue  Archeologique,  XXXI  (1897). 

2c 


386  APPENDIX 

The  beginnings  of  Lombard  art  in  the  north  of  Italy  :  R.  Cat- 
taneo,  op.  cit. ;  ib.,  The  Basilica  of  St.  Mark  (edited  by  Boito), 
p.  255,  etc. ;  Kraus,  Geschichte  der  christlichen  Kunst,  I, 
pp.  591-600 ;  Stickelberg,  Die  Longobardishe  Plastik,  Zurich, 
1896. 

Barbaric  art  of  northern  Europe:  Nordische  Altertums- 
kunde,  Sophus  Miiller  (Deutsche  Ausgabe,  1897) ;  Du 
Chaillu,  The  Viking  Age  (1889);  N.  Nicolaysen,  The 
Viking  Ship  (1882)  ;  O.  Montelius,  Civilization  of  Sweden 
in  Heathen  Times  (1888) ;  Barriere-Flavy,  Sepultures  Bar- 
bares  du  midi  et  de  l'ouest  de  la  France  (1892)  ;  J.  de  Baye, 
Industrie  Anglo-Saxonne  (1889)  ;  Earl  of  Dunraven,  Notes 
on  Irish  Architecture  (1875) ;  G.  Petrie,  Round  Towers  and 
Ancient  Architecture  in  Ireland  (1845)  ;  Ernest  Chantre, 
Age  du  Bronze ;  O.  Almgren,  Studien  iiber  nordeuropaische 
Fibelnformen  (1897).  Also  generally  on  Anglo-Saxon  and 
Irish  art:  Westwood,  Anglo-Saxon  and  Irish  Manuscripts 
(1868) ;  Kraus,  Gesch.  der  christlichen  Kunst,  I,  pp.  600- 
620;  Woltmann  and  Woermann,  Hist,  of  Painting,  I,  pp. 
201-207;  E.  Miintz,  La  Miniature  Irlandaise  (in  Etudes 
iconographiques)  ;  M.  Stokes,  Early  Christian  Architecture 
in  Ireland  (1878). 

Carolingian  art :  Leitschuh,  Geschichte  der  Karolingischen 
Malerei  (1894)  ;  Woltmann  and  Woermann,  Hist,  of  Paint- 
ing, pp.  207-220 ;  Kraus,  Geschichte  der  christlichen  Kunst, 
II,  pp.  1-76 ;  J.  Von  Schlosser,  Beitrage  zur  Kunstgeschichte 
aus  den  Schriftquellen  des  friiheren  Mittelalters,  Sitzungs- 
berichte  der  Phil.-Hist.  Classe,  Wien.  Akademie,  Bd.  123 
(1890)  ;  the  same,  Schriftsquellen  zur  Geschichte  der  Karo- 
lingischen Kunst  (1892)  ;  Janitschek,  Ges.  der  Deutschen 
Malerei,  p.  14  et  seq.  (1890)  ;  Bode,  Geschichte  der  Deutschen 
Plastik  (1887)  ;  Strzygowski,  Byzantinische  Denkmaler.  The 
picture  cycle  is  fully  treated  by  Leitschuh,  op.  cit,  pp.  54-69 
and  p.  95  et  seq.  Also  for  the  subjects  of  Carolingian 
painting  and  those  of  the  time  of  the  Ottos,  see  Kraus, 


APPENDIX  387 

II,  pp.  69-76,  showing  the  correspondence  between  the 
picture  cycle  and  the  topics  referred  to  in  contemporary 
preaching. 

Syrian  influence  upon  Carolingian  art:  Janitschek,  op.  cit., 
p.  29,  etc.;  Leitschuh,  op.  cit.,  pp.  38-53;  Choisy,  op.  cit., 
II,  p.  84.  For  the  influence  of  Syrian  miniatures  on  Caro- 
lingian art,  see  Strzygowski,  Byzan.  Denkm'aler,  I,  pp.  53-67. 
On  the  martial  spirit  of  the  miniatures :  A.  Springer,  Die  Psal- 
terillustrationen  im  fruhen  Mittelalter  (Leipsic,  1880). 

Survival  of  the  antique  in  the  art  of  the  Middle  Ages: 
E.  Muntz,  fitudes  iconographiques,  etc.  (Bib.  d'art  et 
d'archeologie,  1887)  ;  A.  Springer,  Das  Nachleben  der  An- 
tike  im  Mittelalter  (Bilder  aus  der  Neueren  Kunstge- 
schichte) ;  Kraus,  Geschichte  der  christl.  Kunst,  II,  p. 
400  et  seq. ;  Carl  Meyer,  Der  Griechische  Mythus  in  den 
Kunstwerken  des  Mittelalters,  Repertorram  fiir  Kunstwis- 
senschaft,  Bd.  12,  p.  159,  and  Vol.  15  and  16 ;  Male,  L'Art 
religieux  du  XIIIe  siecle,  p.  425  sqq.  On  the  mediceval  rep- 
resentations of  the  virtues  and  vices,  arts  and  sciences,  months, 
and  signs  of  the  zodiac  and  seasons :  Male,  L'Art  religieux  du 
XIIle  siecle,  pp.  87-176 ;  Viollet4e-Duc,  Dictionnaire  Rai- 
sonnee,  articles  "  Vertus,"  "  Arts " ;  Kraus,  Geschichte  der 
christlichen  Kunst,  II,  p.  391  sqq. ;  Didron,  Iconographie  des 
Vertus  Theologales,  Annales  Archeologiques,  XX  (1860)  ; 
Barbier  de  Montault,  Traite  d'iconographie  (1898)  ;  J.  V. 
Schlosser,  Beitrage  zur  Kunstge.  Sitz.  bericht.  der  Wiener 
Akad.,  Phil.-Hist.  Clause,  Vol.  123  (1890).  The  seven  liberal 
arts  are  frequently  represented  in  Carolingian  painting, 
Leitschuh,  op.  cit.,  pp.  59,  269,  etc.  Carolingian  poems  on 
representations  of  the  liberal  arts,  by  Hibernicus  exul  and 
Theodulphus,  in  Diimmler,  Poet.  Lat.  Aev.  Car.,  I,  pp.  408 
and  544,  and  in  J.  Von  Schlosser,  Schriftquellen  zur 
Geschichte  der  Karolingischen  Kunst,  pp.  374-383.  See 
"  Basilica  of  St.  Mark,"  writings  edited  under  direction  of 
C.  Boito  (English  Trans.),  pp.  525-528,  for  representations 


388  APPENDIX 

of  the  months  and  signs  of  the  zodiac  there.  They  occur 
on  many  cathedrals  in  France  and  Italy. 

Satyrs,  centaurs,  and  sirens :  Carl  Meyer,  Der  Griechische 
Mythus,  etc.,  Rep.,  etc.,  Bd.  12, 1889,  p.  235;  Kraus,  Gesch.,  II, 
p.  403.  Also  see,  e.g.,  the  carved  centaur  on  the  door  of  the 
Church  of  Jouin-les-marnes,  twelfth  century  (Dehio  and  B., 
Geschichte  der  Kirchlichen  Baukunst,  plates,  320,  2),  and 
the  centaurs  in  the  twelfth-century  mosaics  in  the  Sala 
Ruggiero  of  the  Palazzo  Reale  in  Palermo.  Sculpture  of 
satyr  and  centaur  in  Chartres  Cathedral,  see  A.  Springer, 
Nachleben  der  Antike  (Bilder,  etc.),  p.  12. 

The  Sibyls:  Earliest  known  representation  (with  nimbus) 
in  S.  Angelo  in  Formis  (end  of  eleventh  century)  at  Capua; 
see  F.  X.  Kraus,  Jahrbiicher  der  K.  Preuss.  Kunstsamm- 
lungen,  Vol.  XIV,  1893,  pp.  84,  86 ;  also,  Kraus,  Geschichte, 
etc.,  II,  p.  404.  Also  on  the  Sibyls  in  mediaeval  art,  see 
Auber,  Hist,  da  Symbolisme  Religieux,  IV,  95-109 ;  article 
"  Sibyllen  "  in  MenzePs  Christliche  Symbolik  (1854)  ;  Barbier 
de  Montault,  Traite  d'iconographie  chretienne,  2d  Ed.,  II, 
pp.  83-89  (1898).  There  is  a  thirteenth -century  Sibyl  in  the 
pavement  of  the  Sienna  Cathedral ;  and  the  great  represen- 
tations of  Michelangelo  (Capella  Sistina),  Perugino  (Peru- 
gia, Sala  del  Cambio),  and  Raphael  (S.  M.  della  Pace,  Rome) 
are  known  to  all. 

On  the  Physiologus  and  the  Bestiaries,  and  on  the  represen- 
tation of  animals  in  mediceval  art:  E.Male,  L'Art  religieux 
du  XIIIe  siecle,  pp.  45-64  (Paris,  1898)  ;  E.  P.  Evans, 
Animal  Symbolism  in  Ecclesiastical  Architecture  (1896) ; 
Cahier,  Nouveaux  Melanges  d'archeologie  (1874)  ;  Lauchert, 
Geschichte  des  Physiologus  (Strasburg,  1889) ;  Kraus,  Ge- 
schichte, etc.,  I,  p.  106;  II,  p.  405.  On  the  legend  of  Alexander 
in  art:  M.  J.  Durand,  La  Legende  d' Alexandre  le  Grand, 
Annales  Archeologiques,  T.  XXV,  p.  141  et  seq. ;  Cahier, 
Nouveaux  Melanges,  I,  pp.  165-180;  Kraus,  Geschichte,  II, 
p.  402 ;  E.  Miintz,  La  Legende  de  Charlemagne,  dans  Tart 


APPENDIX  389 

du   Moyen    Age,  Etudes    iconographiques ;    Male,   op.   cit., 
p.  442  sqq. 

On  the  arrangement  and  significance  of  the  subjects  on  a 
Gothic  cathedral:  Didron,  Iconographie  chretienne  (1843), 
Introduction ;  Kraus,  Geschichte,  II,  pp.  360-384 ;  E.  Male, 
op.  cit.;  Emeric-David,  Histoire  de  la  peinture au Moyen  Age 
(Paris,  1863) ;  Louis  Gonse,  La  Sculpture  franchise  (Paris, 
1895)  ;  ib.,  L'Art  Gothique  (Paris,  1890). 


INDEX 


Abbo,  289. 

Accent,  as  a  basis  of  Greek  and 

Latin  Christian  verse,  253  sqq., 

262  sqq.,  315. 
Accentual  Greek  verse,  origins, 

257  sqq. 
Accentual  Latin  verse,  284  sqq. 
Acedia,  162, 163  note. 
Achilles  Tatius,  41,  42. 
Acrostics,  251,  260,  276. 
Acts,  apocryphal,  224  sqq. 
Adam  of  St.  Victor,  267,  285. 
Aenigmata,  299. 
iEschylus,  241. 
Agius,  299. 
Agnes,  St.,  hymn  in  honor  of,  271 

note,  272. 
Agnese  Fuori,  S.,  339. 
Aix-la-Chapelle,  352. 
Alcaeus,  236. 
Alcuin,  45,  286. 
Aldhelm,  45,  298-299. 
Alethia,  the,  281. 
Alexander  the  Great,  Life  of,  by 

pseudo-Callisthenes,  38,  360. 
Alexander  legend  in  art,  356, 388. 
Alexandrians,  the  Greek,  metri- 
cal deficiencies  of,  242. 
Allegorical  interpretation,  85,  90 

sqq.,  192,  367  ;  among  Greeks, 

Jews,  and  Christians,  97  sqq.; 

of  the  classics,  46  ;  of  catacomb 

painting,  319  sqq. 
Allegorism  in  Christian  thought, 

106,  128. 
Allegorical  poetry,  278-280. 
Alliteration,  210,  286  note,  298. 


Ambrose,  St.,  158,  159,  205  note, 

366,  377;   ethics  of,  8,  71  sqq. ; 

influence  of,  14 ;  de  ojficiis  mi- 

nistrorum,  74  sqq. ;  character, 

185-186;  sermons,  224;  hymns, 

263-267. 
Amor  fugitivus  (personification) , 

279. 
Anchorites,  136  note  ;  see  Monas- 

ticism. 
Angels,  86-88,  192;    in  art,  338, 

342,  356. 
Anglo-Saxon  art,  355,  386. 
Anglo-Saxon  Genesis,  288,  381. 
Anglo-Saxon  miniatures,  355. 
Anglo-Saxon  riddles,  381. 
Anglo-Saxon  traits,  298-299. 
Animals,  in  mediaeval  art,  346, 

388. 
Anthology,   the,  epigrams  upon 

Christian   paintings,  331  note. 
Anthony,  St.,    139,  140,  147,  151 

note,  160  note. 
Antichrist,     appearance     of,   in 

Latin  literature,  276. 
Antique,  the,   in   mediaeval  art, 

348  sqq.,  387. 
Apocalypse,  scenes  from,  326  sqq. 
Apocryphal    Gospels    and    Acts, 

224  sqq.,  327-328,  373-374. 
Apollinaris  in  Classe,  S.,  338. 
Apollinaris  Xuovo,  S.,  337. 
Apollinarius,  252  note. 
Apollinaris  Sidonius,  293,  379. 
Apollonius  of  Tyana,  Life  of,  36 

note,  41  note,  201  note. 
Apologies,  Christian,  213  sqq.,  372. 


391 


392 


INDEX 


Apotheosis,  the,  of  Prudentius, 
277,  292. 

Apuleius,  279. 

Apulia,  345-346. 

Archilochus,  240. 

Architecture,  17,  302  sqq.t  382. 

Areua,  church  at  Padua,  227  note, 
358. 

Areopagite,  the,  see  Dionysius 
the  Areopagite. 

Arianism,  119  note,  120  note,  121 
note,  265. 

Aristophanes,  43. 

Aristotle,  8,  46  note,  115  note, 
122,  154. 

Aries,  354. 

Armandus,  St.  ( Vita) ,  288  note. 

Arnobius,  205  note,  216. 

Arrian,  39  note. 

Arts,  representations  of,  in  art, 
387. 

Arts,  the  seven  liberal,  47  sqq. 

Asceticism,  meaning  of,  136-139. 

Athanasius,  119  note,  120, 158. 

Augustan  era,  31,  36. 

Augustine,  3,  373,  ethics  of,  8, 14, 
56, 73, 77, 83, 87  note,  103, 109, 118, 
119,  121 ;  view  of  knowledge, 
115 ;  conception  of  beauty,  124, 
125,  128;  conception  of  love, 
128  sqq.,  133;  hymn  of,  265 
note ;  his  regula  for  nuns,  158, 
159 ;  character  of,  186  sqq.,  196 ; 
sermons  of,  224;  literary  style, 
201  note,  202,  205  note ;  letters 
of,  211 ;  Civitas  Dei,  217-219. 

Ausonius,  272-273,  293,  379. 

Avaritia  (personification) ,  279. 

Avitus,  248  note,  282-284,  287, 
293,  380. 

Ballads,  precursors  of,  271. 
Baptism,  viewed  as  a  mystery, 

95. 
Barbaric  art,  349,  386. 


Barbarians  in  the  Roman  Em- 
pire, 2. 

Basil,  St.,  144  note,  145  note,  148, 
150, 155  note,  156, 160  note,  164, 
224,  330,  370. 

Basilicas,  Christian,  303  sqq. 

Beauty,  Greek  and  Christian 
ideals,  107,  123  sqq.,  369. 

Bede,  45. 

Benedict  of  Nursia,  St.,  12,  371; 
regula,  155  note,  164  sqq.;  char- 
acter, 193  sqq. 

Benedictine  monasteries,  45, 176. 

Benoit  de  Sainte-More,  41. 

Beowulf,  300. 

Berengarii  imperatoris,  gesta 
(poem),  288. 

Bernward  column  and  door  in 
Hildesbeim,  354. 

Bestiaries,  in  art,  388. 

Bible,  allegorical  interpretation 
of,  99  sqq.;  source  of  Christian 
poetry,  247  sqq.,  264, 269, 280-284, 
299;  subjects  from,  in  art,  319 
sqq.,  324,  326,  sqq.,  333  note, 
337-338. 

Boethius,  10,  50  sqq.t  122, 154,  363. 

Bologna  school  of  law,  66  sqq. 

Bonifacius-Winfried,  45,  299. 

Bracton,  68. 

Breviarium  Alaricianum,  59  sqq. 

Burana,  carmina,  285  note,  296 
note,  380. 

Burgundian  law,  59  sqq. 

Byrthnoth,  300. 

Byzantine  architecture,  305  sqq. 

Byzantine  art,  332  sqq.,  383-385; 
general  features,  338,  340-342. 

Byzantine  influence  in  the  West, 
310,  333,  349  sqq. 

Byzantine  painting,  332. 

Caesarius  of  Aries,  164,  165. 
Calabria,  346. 
Callisthenes,  pseudo,  38. 


INDEX 


393 


"Candidus"  (Brun),  296  note. 
Canon  law,  9,  61  sqq.,  366. 
Capella,  see  Martianus  Capella. 
Carmen  apologeticum,  of  Com- 

modianus,  276. 
Carolingian  art,  350-352,  386-387. 
Carolingian  revival,  282,  286,  288, 

296  note,  298,  309,  380. 
Cassian,  160  sqq.,  173  note,  371. 
Cassiodorus,  45,  177,  362. 
Catacombs,  paintings  in,  317  sqq., 

328-329. 
Cathemerinon,  the,  of  Pruden- 

tius,  269. 
Cato,  364. 
Catullus,  244. 

Cavallini,  332  note,  348  note. 
Cecilia  in  Trastevere,  S.,  339  note. 
Celestial  Hierarchy,  the,  of  Dio- 

nysius  the  Areopagite,  82  sqq., 

93. 
Celibacy,  see  Monasticism,  Mar- 
riage. 
Celtic  art,  352,  355. 
Centaurs,  in  art,  353,  388. 
Cento  Yirgilianus,  378. 
Cephalu,  346  note,  385. 
Ceremonialism  in  Byzantine  art, 

338. 
Chanson  de  geste,  39. 
Chanson  de  Roland,  301. 
Charlemagne, 39 ;  see  Carolingian. 
Charlemagne,  legend  in  art,  356, 

388. 
Christ,  the,  of  Cynewulf,  300. 
Christian    attitude   toward  art, 

316-317. 
Christian  elegies,  273-275. 
Christian   emotion,   difficulty  of 

expressing   in   classic  metres, 

235  sqq.,  244  sqq. 
Christianity,  effect  of,  on  German 

language,294 ;  on  Roman  law,63. 
Christianization  of  prose  style, 

198  sqq.,  371,  372. 


Chrysostom,  St.,  224. 

Cicero,  364;  letters,  209;  de  offi- 

ciis,  74  sqq. 
Cid,  the,  300. 
Cimabue,  348. 
Civitas  Dei,  133,  135  note,  152, 

217-219. 
Cividale,  baptistry,  345. 
Classics,  the,  in  the  Middle  Ages, 

38,  Usqq.,  363. 
Classic  diction,  mediaeval  imita- 
tion of,  233. 
Classical  phrase  and  reminiscence 

in  the  Middle  Ages,  292-297. 
Claudianus,  280,  293. 
Claudius     Marius    Victor,    281, 

287,  378. 
Clement  of  Alexandria,  12,  47, 

101,  110  sqq.,  124,  132,140,  144; 

hymn  of,  253-255. 
Clement  of  Rome,  epistle,  207. 
Codes    of   Roman   and  barbaric 

law,  57  sqq . 
Columbanus,  45,  165,  298,  371. 
Commodianus,  276,  279  note,  292, 

377. 
Commonitorium  fidelibus,  379. 
Concordia  (personification),  279. 
Consolatione  philosophiae,  de,  50 

sqq.,  363. 
Constantine,    revival  of    art  in 

time  of,  305,  324  sqq. 
Constantinople,  325,  333,  336-337, 

340,  £45. 
Corinthian  architecture,  302-303. 
Cosmo    and    Damiano,    S.,    339 

note. 
Costanza,  S.,  333. 
Cross,  feeling  for,  253,  296. 
Cupid  and  Psyche  in  Catacombs, 

318  note. 
Cynewulf,  299,  300. 
Cyprian,   St.,    144,   372  ;  letters, 

209,  210.  216. 
Cyril  of  Jerusalem,  95,  96,  330. 


394 


INDEX 


Dante,  46  note,  106, 187,  291  note, 

301,  363,  365,  367. 
Dares  the  Phrygian,  40,  41,  360. 
Decadence,    general    conditions 

of,  in  the  Roman  Empire,  4; 

phases  of  pagan,  33;  in  pagan 

literature,  33  sqq. 
Deo,  de,  poem  of  Dracontius,  282. 
Devil,  first  poetic  description  of, 

277,  283. 
Dialogus  Agii,  299. 
Dictys  the  Cretan,  40,  41,  360. 
Didactic,  Latin  Christian  poems, 

264,  276  sqq. 
Didier,  Abbot,  347. 
Dio  of  Prusa,  36  note,  79. 
Dionysius  the  Areopagite,  10,  71, 

82  sqq.,  367. 
Discordia  (personification) ,  279. 
Dogma,  formulated  in  terms  of 

Greek  philosophy,   10,   16,  116 

sqq.,  178. 
Dogmatic     character    of     early 

Christian  art,  331,  338. 
Donatus,  48. 

Doric  architecture,  302-303. 
Doxologia  magna,  250. 
Dracontius,  282,  287,  380. 
Drama,  mediaeval,  291  note,  380. 
Ducio,  348,  356. 

Easter  plays,  291  note. 
Ecclesiastical  Hierarchy ,  the,  of 

Dionysius  the  Areopagite, 88, 93. 
Eddie  poems,  300. 
Education,  Roman,  35,   36,  108; 

mediaeval,  47  sqq.,  362. 
Eginhard,  233,  351. 
Egyptian     influences    in     early 

monasticism,  141. 
Ekkehard,  285  note,  289. 
Elegiac    poetry,    classical,    236, 

238 ;  later  verse,  285,  288. 
Elegies,  Christian,  273-289,  295. 
Eleusinian  mysteries,  93. 


Emotion,  pagan  and  Christian, 

27,  131  sqq.,  235  sqq. 
England,  Roman  law  in,  67. 
Enigmas,  299. 
Ennodius,  293,  380. 
Epic  poems,  Christian,  286-289. 
Epic  poetry,  classical,  236,  237. 
Epistles,  early  Christian,  207  sqq. 
Epithalamia,  Christian,  256,  273, 

295. 
Erigena,  87,  90  note,  122,  298. 
Ermoldus  Nigellus,  288. 
Erynyes,  278. 
Essenes,  141,  370. 
Ethics,  pagan  and  Christian,  8, 

71  sqq. 
Ethiopica,  of  Heliodorus,  41. 
Euripides,  241. 
Eusebius,  222. 
Evagrius  Ponticus,  162. 
Evangelien  Buck  of  Otfried,  300. 
Excidio   Thoringiae,  de  (poem), 

295. 

Fall,  the,  poem  of  Avitus.283,287. 
Fayoum,  Greek  portraits  found 

at,  335. 
Felix,  St.,   Paulinus'  poems  to, 

272,  275. 
Fides  (personification) ,  278,  279. 
Fish,  symbol  of,  319,  329,  330. 
Fortunatus,  294-297,  380. 
France,  Roman  law  in,  66. 
Francis,  St.,  12  note. 
Frankish  law,  59  sqq. 
Franks,  Trojan  origin,  361. 
Frederic  II,  347. 

French  traits,  beginning  of,  297. 
Fulgentius,  46  note,  51  note. 

Galla  Placidia,  mausoleum,  333, 

336,  337. 
Genaro  dei  Poveri,  S.,  317. 
German   language,    affected    by 

Christianity,  294,  381. 


INDEX 


395 


German  translations  of  Scrip- 
ture, 299,  300. 

Germanus,  St.  (Vita),  287  note, 
288. 

Germany,  Roman  law  in,  68. 

Giotto,  332  note,  348,  356,  357. 

Glanville,  68. 

Gnosticism,  dualistic,  140. 

Gnostics,  223,  225,  228  note. 

Goliardic  poems,  285  note,  296 
note,  380. 

Good  Shepherd,  in  art,  318,  319, 
323  note,  324.  328,  337  note. 

Gospels,  poetic  paraphrases  of, 
264,  269,  280-281,  299;  subjects 
from,  in  art,  319  sqq.,  326  sqq., 
333  note,  337. 

Gospels,  apocryphal,  224  sqq. 

Gothic  architecture,  302,  311  sqq.; 
sculpture,  312,356-357;  cathe- 
drals, arrangement  of  sculp- 
tures, 389. 

Greek  architecture  compared 
with  Gothic,  313-316. 

Greek  character,  18  sqq. 

Greek  Christian  poetry,  247  sqq. 

Greek  influences  in  early  monas- 
ticism,  138  sqq.;  upon  Rome, 22. 

Greek  language,  knowledge  of,  in 
the  West,  13,  44,  347  note,  361. 

Greek  poetry,  235  sqq. 

Greek  romances,  41  sqq.,  361. 

Greek  writings,  translations,  13. 

Gregorian  chants,  263  uote. 

Gregory  Nazianzen,  224 ;  hymns, 
256,  257,  259. 

Gregory  of  Nyssa,  conception  of 
beauty,  125-128,  132,  330. 

Gregory  of  Tours,  231  note,  297. 

Gregory  the  Great,  3, 12  note,  104, 
155  note,  156, 158,  166,  231  note, 
233  note,  298;  character,  195 
sqq. 

Hadrian,  324. 


Haeresis  (personification),  279. 
Hamartigenia,  the,  of  Pruden- 

tius,277,  278. 
Hebraic  conception  of  righteous- 
ness, 117. 
Heiricus,  287  note,  288. 
Heliand,  the,  288,  300,  381. 
Heliodorus,  41. 

Heretics,  writings  against,  223. 
Hermes,  hymn  to,  290. 
Hermits,  136  note,  156  note;  see 

Monasticism. 
Hexaemeron,  the,  of  Dracontius, 

282,  287. 
Hexameter  metre,  236,  237,  242 

soq.,  251,  275-278,  280-281,  285, 

287-289. 
Hibernicus  Exul,  296  note. 
Hieronymus,  see  Jerome. 
Hilary  Vof  Poictiers,  14,  263,  264, 

377. 
Hildesheim,  354. 
Hildebrandslied,  301. 
Hirmos,  260. 
Hisperica  famina ,  298. 
Hlstoria  Ev angelica,  of  Juven- 

cus,  280,  287. 
Historia  Francorum,23lnote,297. 
Homeric  emotion,  237,  243. 
Homilies,  224. 

Honestas  (personification),  278. 
Horace,  29,  244,  292,  364. 
Hrotsvith,  289-291,  380. 
Humilis  Mens   (personification), 

278. 
Humility,  the  virtue  of,  170-172. 
Hymns,  early  Greek   Christian, 

248  sqq.;  early  Latin,  263  sqq.; 

mediaeval  Latin,  234,  246,  247, 

285,  295. 
Hypatia,  78,  82. 

Iambic  metres,  240,  241,  265  sqq., 

270,  272,  285,  295. 
Iamblichus,  83. 


396 


INDEX 


Iconoclastic  conflict,  343,  346. 
Idolatria  (personification),  278. 
Ignatius,  St.,  epistles,  207. 
Iliad,  feeling  in,  237,  243. 
Image  worship,  343,  344  note,  346, 

351. 
Imitatione  Christi,de,o6,18S,202. 
In   honorem  Hludovici  (poem), 

288. 
Indian  asceticism,  influence  of, 

141. 
Ltgratis,  de,  379. 
Ionic  architecture,  302-303. 
Instructiones,  of  Commodianus, 

276. 
Ira  (personification) ,  278. 
Ireland,  knowledge  of  Greek  in, 

44. 
Irenaeus,  112,  223. 
Irish  art,  355,  386. 
Irish,  knowledge  of  Greek  by,  361. 
Irish,  Latin  verses  by,  298. 
Irnerius,  66. 
Isidore   of   Seville,   45   note,   51 

note. 
Itala,  the,  205  note,  213. 
Italy,    Byzantine    influence    in, 

333,  345-348,  350. 
Italy,  Roman  law  in,  64,  66. 
Ivory  carving,  343,  352,  354. 

Jejunia  (personification) ,  279. 

Jerome,  St.,  14, 109 note,  145 note, 
151  note,  158,  205,  222,  373, 
character  of,  184  sqq.;  letters, 
211;  literary  style,  212. 

Joachim  and  Anna,  story  of,  227. 

Jona,  de,  378. 

Jordan,  river  (personified) ,  318. 

Jovinian  (monk),  144  note. 

Julia,  basilica,  305. 

Julian,  1. 

Justin  Martyr,  12,  101,  110,  1U ; 
apology,  213. 

Justinian,  57  sqq.,  338,  343. 


Justitia  (personification) ,  278. 
Juvencus,  280,  287,  292,  377. 

Knowledge,  pagan  and  Christian 
ideals,  107  sqq. 

Lactantius,  13,  133,  205  note, 
216-217,  279  note. 

Lamb,  symbol  of,  319,  328. 

Latin  Christian  poetry,  262  sqq. 

Latin  literature,  mediaeval,  231 
sqq. 

Laurence,  St.,  hymn  on  martyr- 
dom of,  271,  290. 

Law,  see  Roman  law,  Canon  law, 
etc. 

Legenda  Sanctorum,  223. 

Leo,  the  Isaurian,  343,  346. 

Leucippe  and  Clitophon,  41,  42 
note. 

Libido  (personification) ,  278. 

Literature,  pagan,  Christian  atti- 
tude toward,  45^7,  108,  368; 
mediaeval  Latin,  231  sqq.;  prose, 
early  Christian,  198  sqq. 

Lombard  art,  315,  386. 

Lombard  law,  60,  61. 

Lorenzo,  S.,  339. 

Love,  pagan  and  Christian  ideals, 
107,  128  sqq.,  369. 

Lucan,  364. 

Lucian's  Ass,  43. 

Lucretius,  244,  277,  292,  364. 

Macrobius,  38,  48. 

Magna  Graecia,  34.5-348. 

Magnificat,  the,  249. 

Marcion,  277. 

Maria  inTrastevere,  S.,  mosaics, 
331  note. 

Maria  Maggiore,  S.,  332 note,  338. 

Marriage,  early  Christian  dis- 
paragement of,  143  sqq,,  192, 139. 

Martianus  Capella,  10,  49  sqq., 
58,  362. 


INDEX 


397 


Martin  of  Tours,  St.,  12 note,  288 
note. 

Martyrdom,  early  mosaic  of,  323 
note,  337  note. 

Martyr ologium,  of  Wandalbert, 
286  note. 

Martyrs,  poems  on,  248,  270-272, 
275. 

Mediaeval  art,  organic  growth  of, 
355  sqq. ;  the  antique  in,  348 
sqq.,  387. 

Mediae  valLatin  literature,  231sqq. 

MediaBral  Latin  poetry,  284  sqq. 

Mediaeval  plays,  291  note. 

Methodius,  Symposium,  255-256. 

Metres,  classic,  235  sqq. ,  284  sqq. 

Milton,  283. 

Miniatures,  352,  355,  383. 

Minucius  Felix,  12,  203,  215,  221 
note,  372. 

Miracles,  105,  191,  197,  217,  223, 
229,  231  note,  281,  322. 

Monastic  type  of  character,  the, 
178  sqq. 

Monasticism,  an  influence  in 
transforming  scriptural  narra- 
tive, 11 ;  effect  on  Roman  law, 
63 ;  origins,  and  eastern  monas- 
ticism, 136  sqq.,  369;  in  the 
west,  155  sqq. ,  370. 

Monks,  the,  as  preservers  of  the 
classics,  45-47. 

Monreale,  346  note,  385. 

Monte  Cassino,  Benedictine  mon- 
astery, 164  note,  166  note,  347. 

Mosaics,  Christian,  326  sqq.,  336 
sqq.,  383,  385. 

Moschus,  42. 

Music,  early  Christian,  263  note, 
265  note,  377. 

Mysteries,  pagan  and  Christian, 
89  sqq.,  368. 

Narrative  Latin  Christian  poems, 
264,  276,  280  sqq.,  286  sqq. 


Natalitia  of  Paulinus,  275. 

Neo-Platonism,  10, 15,  30,  71,  122, 
125,  135  note,  139, 153, 183  note, 
191,  359,  367;  in  Synesius' 
writings,  78  sqq. ;  in  the  Celes- 
tial Hierarchy  of  pseudo-Dio- 
nysius,  82  sqq. 

Nereo  ed  Achilleo,  SS.  339  note. 

New  Testament  writings,  style 
of,  199  sqq. 

Nibelungenlied,  301. 

Nicene  formulation  of  dogma, 
120,  121. 

Nicodemus,  gospel  of,  228,  230 
note. 

Nilus,  St.,  162. 

Normans,  346. 

Notker,  362. 

Nvptiis  Philologiae  et  Mercurii, 
de,  49  sqq.,  362. 

Obedience,  a  monastic  virtue,  149, 
150,  167,  169. 

Oddonis  I.  imperatoris  gesta, 
poem  by  Hrotsvith,  289. 

Odo,  289. 

Odyssey,  the,  42,  237. 

Old  Testament,  ethical  spirit  of, 
72,  117,  119;  allegorical  inter- 
pretation of,  98  sqq.,  319  sqq.; 
source  of  Christian  poetry.  247 
sqq.,  264,  269,  282-284;  subjects 
from,  in  art,  319  sqq.,  326  sqq., 
333  note,  338. 

Operatio  (charity) ,  279. 

Origen,  12,  47,  101-103,  110  sqq., 
140,  144,  214. 

Orientius,  378,  379. 

Orosius,  219sgg.,373. 

Orpheus,  in  catacombs,  318 
note. 

Otfried,  300. 

Otranto,  Terra,  346. 

Ottos,  German,  time  of,  288. 

Ovid,  364. 


398 


INDEX 


Pachomius,  141, 147-149,  loo  note, 

156,  370. 
Paedagogus,    the,   of    Clement, 

253. 
Painting,  early  Christian,  17,  316 

sqq.,  382;    after  Constantine, 

325  sqq.;  Greek  or  Italian,  330, 

333-335. 
Palermo,  307  note,  316  note,  385. 
Panegyrics,  35. 
Pantheon,  306. 
Paolo  Fuori,  basilica,  305. 
"  Paradise  Lost,"  283. 
Parisiacae      urbis,      de      bellis 

(poem),  289. 
Parzival,  301. 
Paschale    carmen  of    Sedulins,  : 

281,  287. 
Patientia  (personification),  278. 
Paul,  St.,  321,  322,  329;  writings, 

style    of,   200,    207;    views   of 

marriage,  143. 
Paula,  friend  of  Jerome,  185. 
Paulinus  of  Nola,  269,   272-276, 

291-292,  297,  327  note,  378. 
Paul  us  Diaconus,  286  note. 
Pelagianism,  121  note. 
Perlstephano7i,  the,  of  Pruden- 

tius,  270-272. 
Personifications  in  art,  318,  353, 

356;  in  Christian  Latin  poetry, 

278-280. 
Pervigilium  Veneris,  6  note,  203. 
Peter,  Gospel  of,  226  note. 
Petrarch,  234. 

Philo  of  Alexandria,  98,  99,  367. 
Philosophy,    Greek,   10,   15,    24: 

early  Christian  attitude  toward, 

108  sqq.,   368;   formulation  of 

dogma  in  terms  of,  116  sqq.;  in 

scholasticism,    122:    character 

of  later  phases  of,   135  note; 

ethical  ideals  of,  138. 
Philostratus,  36  note,  41  note. 
Phoenice,  de  (poem),  279  note. 


Phoenix,  myth  of,  5. 

Physiologus,  the,  353,  388. 

Pietro  in  Vaticano,  basilica,  305. 

Pilate,  acts  of,  228. 

Pindar,  235, 237,  241,  254,  260, 261. 

Plagiarism,  291. 

Plato,  214,  239,  255. 

Platonism,  in  Christian  writings, 

110,  125  sqq. 
Pliny,  335,  364. 
Plotinus,  49  note,  83,  85, 114  note, 

135,  139,  140. 
Plutarch,  38. 
Polemic  Latin  Christian  poems, 

264,  276  sqq. 
Pompeian  frescoes,  335. 
Porphyry,  52,  191. 
Portraits,  Roman,  335. 
Praxede,  S.,  339  note. 
Pride,  a  chief  Christian  vice,  163, 

279,  283. 
Priscianus,  48. 
Prosper  of  Aquitaine,  379. 
Providentia   divina,  carmen  de, 

379. 
Prudentius,    13    note,   248  note. 

269-272,  277-280,  289,  290,  292, 

327  note.  378. 
Psalms,  first  Christian  songs,  249. 
Pseudo-Dionysius,  see  Dionysius 

the  Areopagite. 
Psvche,  in  catacombs,  318  note, 

323. 
Psychomachia,    of    Prudentius, 

278-280,  290,  379. 
Pudenziana,  S.,  333,  336-337. 
Pudicitia  (personification),  278. 
Pudor  (personification),  279. 

Quantity,    decay  of,  in   Greek, 
242. 

Radagunda,  St.,  294-295. 
Ravenna,  324,  330  note,  333,  336- 
338,  347. 


INDEX 


399 


Realism  and  nominalism,  52. 

Recognitions,  the  Clementine, 
201  note. 

Rheims,  358. 

Rhetoric  and  Oratory,  25,  34  sqq., 
359 ;  in  Christian  writings,  201, 
224. 

Rhyme,  284  sqq.,  381;  in  Greek 
Christian  poetry,  259,  261;  in 
Latin  hymns,  263-268. 

Rhythm,  in  Christian  prose,  210, 
215,224,  258. 

Riddles,  Anglo-Saxon,  299,  381. 

Roman  buildings,  303. 

Roman  character,  the,  18  sqq. 

Roman  de  la  Rose,  106,  279  note, 
364. 

Roman  Empire,  decadent  condi- 
tion of,  4,  33. 

Roman  law,  9,  25,  365 ;  transmis- 
sion of,  to  the  Middle  Ages, 
56  sqq. ;  effect  of,  on  dogmatic 
phraseology,  117-119 ;  qualities 
of,  reflected  in  western  monas- 
ticism,  157, 187. 

Roman  painting,  334  note. 

Roman  portraits,  335. 

Roman  sculpture,  334  note. 

Romance  tongues,  233. 

Romance  verse  forms,  285,  381. 

Romances,  Greek,  41  sqq.,  361. 

Romanesque  architecture,  308- 
311. 

Romanesque  sculpture,  345,  354 
sqq. 

Romanos,  260-262,  307,  341,  375. 

Romantic  elements  in  apocryphal 
acts,  228. 

Rufinus,  159,  164  note,  222. 

Ruodlieb,  the,  380. 

Rutilius,  293. 

Sabina,  S.,  doors,  336  note,  354 

note,  385. 
Saints,  early  worship  of,  275. 


Salic  law,  61,69. 

Sapphic  verse,  285. 

Sappho,  43,  236,  240. 

Saracenic  influence  in  southern 

Italy,  346  note. 
Sarcophagi,    Christian,    324-325, 

354. 
Satan,  277,  278,  283. 
Satyr,  in  art,  353,  388. 
Scholasticism,  10,  52,  122,  368. 
Schools  of  the  Middle  Ages,  47 

sqq.,  362. 
Sciences,  representations  in  art, 

387. 
Scripture,  see  Bible. 
Sculpture,  Christian,  17,  324-325, 

382;  Greek,  28. 
Seasons,  representations  in  art, 

318  note,  387. 
Sedulius,  266,  281,  287,  292,  378. 
Seneca,  6  note,  290,  364. 
Sergios,  262. 

Sergius,  St.,  church  of,  306. 
Sermo  Plebeius,  the,  203. 
Sermons,  early  Christian,  224. 
Seven  liberal  arts,  in  art,  387. 
Shepherd  of  Helenas,  99. 
Sibyllina  Oracula,  214,  220  note, 

250-253,  375-377. 
Sibyls  in  art,  353,  356,  388. 
Sidonius  Apollinaris,  36. 
Simonides,  239. 
Sirens,  in  art,  353,  388. 
Sobrietas  (personification),  279, 

280. 
Sodoma,  de,  378. 
11  Sortes  Virgilianae,"  38. 
Sophia,  St.,  church  of,  306-308, 

340,  342-343. 
Sophocles,  241. 

Spes    (personification),   278;  pa- 
gan and  Christian  conception, 

6  note. 
Spiritalis    historiae    gestis,    de, 

poem  of  Avitus,  282-284. 


400 


INDEX 


Stabat  mater,  the,  261,  268,  341. 

Statius,  364. 

Stoical  approval    of    allegorical 

interpretation,  98. 
Stoical  ethics  in  St.  Ambrose's 

writings,  74  sqq. 
Stoicism,  122,  133,  135  note,  139, 

366. 
Stylites,  the,  156  note. 
Sulpicius  Severus,  222,  288  note. 
Symbolism,  87,  90  sqq.,  367;   in 

Latin    hymns,   269;    in    other 

poems,  278-280,    284;    in   art, 

313. 
Symbols  in  catacomb  painting, 

319  sqq.,  329. 
Symmachus,  36,  53,  203,  211. 
Symmetry  in  Byzantine  art,  338, 

341;     in    Gothic   architecture, 

315. 
Symposins,  299. 
Synesius  of  Cyrene,  10,  71,  78 

sqq.,  256,  366. 
Syrian  influence  in  art,  340,  352. 

Tatwine,  299. 
Terence,  290,  292,  364. 
Tertullian,  12,  13,  101,  108,  110, 

118,   190,  279,   317  note,    372; 

diction  of,  203,  204,  215. 
Teutonic  verse  forms,  285,  381. 
Theocritus,  42,  43. 
Theodoric  the  Ostrogoth,  45,  52, 

53,  59  note,  337. 
Theodosius,  57,  58. 
Theognis,  239. 
Therapeutae,  141,  370. 
Thomas  a  Becket,  poem  on,  296 

note. 
Torcello,  347. 
Torriti,  332  note,  348  note. 
Tragedy,  Greek,  28. 


Trajan's  column,  335,  354. 
Translationes     (removal*)       of 

relics,  275. 
Trivium  and  quadrivium,  47  sqq., 

300,  362. 
Trochaic  metres,  240,  270,  285, 

295. 
Troparia,  260. 
Troy,  tale  of,  40,  41,  296  note, 

360. 
Tyro,  Prosper,  274. 

Ulpia,  basilica,  305. 
Ulysses  in  Christian  art,  353. 

Valentinian,  57. 

Venice,  347. 

Vices,  monastic,  160-164;  in  art, 
387. 

Vigilantius,  144  note. 

Villehardouin,  345. 

Vincent,  St.,  hymn  on  martyr- 
dom of,  271. 

Vincent  de  Beauvais,  365. 

Virgil,  29,  31,  187,  280,  292,  359, 
363,  364;  debased  uses  of,  37, 
46,  favorite  with  Jerome,  184; 
emotional  expression  in,  243, 
246. 

Virtues,  personifications  of  the, 
278-280 ;  in  art,  387. 

Visigothic  law,  59  sqq. 

Vitae  Sanctorum,  222,  223,  288. 

Vitale,  S.,  church  of,  306,  330 
note,  342-343. 

Waltharius,  the,  285  note,  289, 

299,380. 
Wandalbert,  286  note. 
Winfried-Boniface,  45,  299. 

York,  library  at,  365. 


ANCIENT  IDEALS 

A   Study  of    Intellectual    and    Spiritual    Growth    from    Early 
Times  to  the  Establishment  of  Christianity, 

By  HENRY  OSBORN   TAYLOR 

In  Two  Volumes        Cloth        8vo        $5.00  net 

M  It  needs  something  like  genius  to  give  an  account  so  sympathetic  and  pene- 
trating of  religions  so  diverse;  yet  the  author  never  fails  to  leave  in  the  mind  a 
perfectly  definite  picture  of  each  system,  with  its  essential  characteristics  quite 
distinct,  and  illustrated  by  just  so  much  history  as  is  needed  to  make  the  picture 
living.  .  .  .  The  treatment  of  his  subjects  leaves  very  little  to  be  desired. 
There  are  few,  if  any,  summaries  of  Oriental  religions  which  approach  this  in 
clearness.  .  .  ." — The  Guardian,  London. 

"  Mr.  Taylor  has  written  a  scholarly  and  comprehensive  work.  .  .  .  The 
plan  implies  much  research,  a  grasp  of  historical  evolution  and  of  the  develop- 
ment of  the  human  mind.  .  .  .  This  work  must  have  been  the  labor  of  years, 
and  it  is  an  extremely  instructive  and  interesting  one  to  read  and  put  in  one's 
library  for  reference."  —  The  Hartford  Courant. 

"  Mr.  Taylor's  treatment  of  the  theme  is  always  noble,  and  in  many  cases  it 
is  also  adequate  and  satisfactory.  ...  It  will  be  of  great  advantage  if  this 
necessity  should  turn  the  reader  from  our  own  very  partial  sketch  to  the  book 
itself,  for  he  will  find  there  a  record  of  the  achievement  of  the  human  spirit  that 
must  fire  his  enthusiasm  and  lend  new  inspiration  to  his  own  efforts  after  life."  — 
Philadelphia  Press. 

"  The  author  has  done  what  he  set  out  to  do  with  intelligence,  skill,  and  ex- 
cellent judgment.  The  treatment  is  sympathetic  and  always  fair  minded.  The 
style  is  admirable  in  simplicity  and  precision  of  statement.  .  .  .  The  con- 
cluding chapter  is  a  singularly  luminous  and  masterly  gathering  up  of  the  results 
of  the  whole  historic  survey." —  Chicago  Tribune. 

"  We  must  congratulate  Mr.  Taylor  upon  his  courage,  but  we  may  go  further 
and  say  that  his  attempt  to  grapple  with  a  gigantic  subject  is  such  as  must  com- 
mand respect.  .  .  .  He  has  gone  to  the  best  modern  books.  .  .  .  His  reading 
is  very  wide  indeed."  —  London  Times. 

"  The  work  is  excellently  done  and  deserving  of  high  praise.  The  author  has 
evidently  read  widely  and  diligently  on  his  subject;  he  has  made  good  use  of  the 
best  authorities,  and  his  own  remarks  and  reflections  are  always  judicious  and  to 
the  point."  —  The  Scotsman. 


THE   MACMILLAN    COMPANY 

66  FIFTH  AVENUE,   NEW   YORK 


